


Evil Planted Its Seed

by CatofApocalypse, PastelPenguins



Series: Incubation of Evil [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 20th Century, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Never Met, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Angel/Demon Sex, Angels have to consent to ovulate, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale Needs a Hug (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Little Shit (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Mess (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a brat (good omens), Bittersweet Ending, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Breeding, Crowley Being an Asshole (Good Omens), Crowley Has Two Penises (Good Omens), Crowley has Mysophobia (Good Omens), Crowley isn't as funny as he thinks, Dark Crowley (Good Omens), Duke of Hell Crowley (Good Omens), Extremely Dubious Consent, Illustrations, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Insensitive Joke, M/M, Masturbation in Bathroom, Not a Love Story, Other, Past Rape/Non-con, Sentient Bentley (Good Omens), Stockholm Syndrome, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Uniform Kink, With illustrations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23818243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatofApocalypse/pseuds/CatofApocalypse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelPenguins/pseuds/PastelPenguins
Summary: Demons are unable to produce off-springs of their own, but angels can.In order to increase their numbers for Armageddon, Hell had been kidnapping any angels they could find on Earth throughout the course of history, turning them into demon breeders for the high-ranking demons.The principality Aziraphale had been trapped in Hell since the 18th century. His rebellious attitude caught him the interest of the demon Crowley, a Duke of Hell.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Incubation of Evil [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716145
Comments: 80
Kudos: 295
Collections: Courts GO Re-Reads





	1. Bath

**Author's Note:**

> This work came from a role-play on Discord. Characters' point of view will regularly shift.  
> The story is heavy. Please mind the tags.

"These are the ones available," The short, dark skinned demon walked along the length of the room with a notebook in his hand. "I hope they are up to your liking."

Crowley smirked as he followed the disposable demon, "surprise me, Eric," and the demon called Eric chuckled a tad nervously as he opened the door for the Duke.

The room was completely different from the rest of Hell. While the outside was narrow, filthy, and dimly lit with flashing broken light bulbs, the room they entered was wide and had been painted white. Or at least someone had _attempted_ to paint it white, anyway. The only thing consistent was the bad lighting and how the useless plumbing system of Hell had damaged a majority of the walls. 

Lined along the walls were rusty metal bars with chains attached to them, and at the end of these chains were...

"Duke Crowley, is there any trait you are looking for in particular?" asked Eric. 

"Let's face it. It doesn't matter what they look like," the taller demon turned to smirk over his shoulder.

"Oh, yes. You're right, sir," nodded the disposable demon, "As long as they can serve their purposes."

Crowley didn't respond. He fixed the collar of his uniform as he eyed each of the naked figures kneeling at the walls, their bodies bound to the chains that connected to the bars and hooks at the foot of the wall. Their eyes have been blind folded.

The demon stepped further in. His echoing steps firm and heavy, like metal on hardwood. He detached the baton from the belt on his waist and used it to lift a few faces up to get a better look.

* * *

Aziraphale frowned as he heard two demons speaking with each other. He could tell when they had gotten close, their footsteps roughly giving their location away, but he was still startled when he felt something press against the bottom of his chin. 

He glared but unfortunately the blindfold hid the fire in his eyes, and only allowed whoever it was that decided to look him over to see the downturn of his lips. 

Oh how he wished his legs were unbound so he could at least kick out. Sadly all he could do at the moment was stay still and allow whoever authority over the situation.

Perhaps he might say something or even spit at whoever this was, but Aziraphale had learned from experience that that never went down well. Sometimes it made the demons eager to punish him and other times it drove them away, but there were still consequences that he ended up dealing with afterwards, when the Keepers caught wind of his behavior. 

So he forced himself to stay still and be good for now, hoping whoever this was wouldn’t want anything to do with him.

Crowley arched an eyebrow at the one he was checking out. The clear stubbornness on his expression intrigued the demon, and the shape of his body as well. The Duke had had a fair share of angels in his possession. But one thing for sure, none of which had such a soft, plump body. 

"You," he smirked. "Speak. What's your name?" The baton pushed the angel's chin higher.

Aziraphale’s nostrils flared when his face was lifted further and he stubbornly pressed his lips together tightly. A clear sign he refused to listen to the demon and that he wanted nothing to do with him. If this demon wished to hear his words, then he would be very disappointed to know he wouldn’t be giving them anytime soon.

The demon narrowed his eyes. "Can't speak? Did they make you swallow hot coal?" he chuckled. "Or is this your first time?"

"Oh, that one's been with us since the 18th Century, sir," said Eric whilst flipping the pages of his notes. "He's just a difficult one. I've got a lot of complaints about him."

"A fighty one, hm?" Crowley cooed mockingly. If there was anything the Serpent of Eden wanted, it was challenge. The other ones he had gotten were rather bland. Either too submissive, or unresponsive. Now this one. This one sent a thrill throughout his body. 

The demon let the tip of his baton travel down the angel's neck, then traced along the tattooed runes on his skin. The occult magic that stripped angels of their abilities, making them untraceable and unable to perform their so-called miracles.

When the baton traveled back up, he slid it under the blindfold and yanked it off.

  
  


Aziraphale did not care for that tone used when saying, “A fighty one,” and shivered as his runes were traced. He hated that it didn’t feel entirely unpleasant, the featherlight tracing was, as always, pleasurable. He was only glad the demons he had the misfortune of being with never caught on to that.

When the demon stopped he nearly sighed in relief only to flinch when his blindfold was ripped away, causing him to blink rapidly. While the lighting was not blindingly bright, the change from total blackness to seeing any light at all made his eyes water and sting.

Crowley smirked. He grabbed the angel's chin with his free hand. His grip was firm but sensual as he turned the angel's face to face him. The moment he saw those fierce blue eyes, he was sold.

"I want this one," he said to Eric without breaking eye contact.

  
  


When Aziraphale heard the demon say he wanted him, his eyes widened slightly and he swallowed. The stubborn anger was quickly changing to horrified dread and his expression showed it as his breathing sped up a bit. 

_Fuck,_ he really shouldn’t have been so defiant, this was one of those demons who liked that.

"Oh, are you sure, sir? I can suggest -" the disposable demon shut up at the sight of two serpentine eyes glaring at him. "Y- yes sir. I'll get the paperwork done right away sir," he stumbled out of the room.

Crowley rolled his eyes and turned to look at the angel again.

"I'm sure we'll have a good time together, angel," he grinned.

Aziraphale managed to finally school his features into another glare when the demon holding his chin spoke again. And with a voice filled with venom, finally responded.

“I sincerely doubt it.”

* * *

It was a long walk back to his quarter. Crowley normally could have just teleported himself wherever he wanted to go. Unfortunately, with an angel following you back on a leash, that would prove to be difficult.

They strolled along the nasty crowded hallways of Hell. It was Crowley's least favorite part, to be brushed against the demons whose last bath was probably during the 14th century. Eugh.. He hated the 14th Century.

Soon they got to a more empty area where the dukes of Hell were given some sort of a flat to stay. Some sort, because they could hardly be called a flat when he first received them. It had taken a lot of renovation to get it how he wanted.

Crowley waved a hand, opening the door with a lazy miracle to take the angel inside. The interior was up to date with the current 1940 design. The floor was wooden with a sofa and a rug. It also consisted of a television leaning against the wall. On one side was the kitchen counters and a refrigerator. There were also two more doors. One led to the bedroom and another to the bathroom. 

One thing for sure, it looked the complete opposite of whatever Hell decorated itself with outside.

He closed the door with another wave once the angel was in, and turned around to face him. He placed the side of a finger under his new property's chin. "So, still not telling me your name?"

Aziraphale’s eye twitched once addressed again, still feeling his skin crawl from brushing up against the demons in the halls. Even though he was used to being touched so often down here, he never grew to enjoy it, at least not mentally.

“No.” He said defiantly and yanked his head to the side and then back, stubbornly fighting his new owner’s touch. Though it wasn’t like it would matter, the demon could easily overpower him right now and that fact made it so that his small act of defiance wasn’t a victory. He knew he would be taken in just a moment, as he always was when brought to the home of any new owner. 

Still, he couldn’t help but feel satisfied over his small act of autonomy.

Crowley took a breath. He knew this was going to be difficult. He signed himself up for this, and he was surely going to get what he wanted in the end. He just needed to be patient. 

"Looks like you're not keen on being freed from these cuffs and binds then," he smiled smugly, tugging at the collar. "Would make bathing and dressing up difficult, don't you think?"

Aziraphale bristled at that, as if he was normally allowed to do such things on his own. How dare this demon pretend like he was allowed to do anything of his own will.

“And I just suppose you were ever even willing to allow that in the first place?!” He snapped, nostrils flaring and the grace that had been locked away sparked just beneath the surface of his skin, making him hiss uncomfortably at the heat the runes tattooed on his body emitted in warning.

The demon rolled his eyes. "If that means you stop smelling like whatever-the-bloody-turds-out-there in my living quarter, yes!" He looked back at the angel and took in the sight of him again. The curves made him subtly swallow his thirst. Actually, checking out should come later, once he was sure this angel smelled nicely enough. 

He held the leash tighter and pulled the angel to him to growl into his ear.

"I don't like chaining things to the wall, angel. This is where I live, not a bloody dungeon. So either you make it easy for yourself, or I'm going to treat you like any other," said the demon, his voice deep and threatening. He pushed the rebellious angel back a step to look at his eyes again. "Now, your name."

Aziraphale glared back defiantly and puffed his cheeks out, shutting his eyes and turning his head to the side. The demon could chain him for all he cared, because regardless of being chained or not, this would still be a prison.

He would rather not pretend it was otherwise, especially when he wouldn’t have freedom anyways. Or even make it easy on his jailer to do what he would whether he cooperated or not. 

Afterall, this was most likely a trick to get him to comply. He wouldn’t willingly play into whatever games his new owner wanted to play.

When it was apparent that he wasn't getting any cooperation, Crowley's eyes grew cold.

"Well then. Guess I'll be scrubbing you clean then.." 

He yanked at the leash, pulling the angel along with him to the bathroom. He forced the property into the room along with him and sat him down on the rim of the bathtub. "This could have been easily avoided, angel. Remember that."

He started popping his uniform jacket open.

* * *

Aziraphale squeaked as he was forced to follow his owner to the bathroom, and glared once forced to sit. He rolled his eyes, muttering a _‘sure it could have,’_ under his breath and stiffened slightly as the demon started undoing his uniform.

He hated this and hoped to make the demon hate it just as much, if not more. It would serve him right to be frustrated over his non cooperation.

Crowley hung his jacket on the hook behind the bathroom door, He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, staring intensely at the angel. But there was really no anger in his eyes, just a cold stare. 

Once he was done with the sleeves, the demon turned on the faucet with a wave of his hand, as he walked closer, standing just in front of the angel. Crowley didn't touch the wrist bind. his hands reached to Aziraphale's neck, and... undid the collar amd tossed it into the sink. 

"Get in," he ordered, jerking his head at the tub behind the angel. "Don't make me push you."

Aziraphale had half a mind to make him do just that, but honestly he did want to be clean. While he may not have noticed an odor on himself, mostly due to getting used to the stench in such close quarters with other equally smelly angels. He did feel how the grime had built up on himself and his scalp itched at the prospect of finally being clean.

So, with a grumble he twisted to throw his legs over the tub and sank down. Not like fighting the demon on this would end in any other result anyways.

Crowley smirked with a bit of satisfaction. He took the bottle of soap and poured some into the bath water. Then he summoned a bath sponge to pour the body wash on it as well. The demon started first on Aziraphale's back, scrubbing in quick circular motions.

Aziraphale scowled but slowly started to relax, the scrubbing felt blissful as his skin was finally cleaned after being dirty for so long. He still wasn’t happy about the situation but he couldn’t help slightly pressing back against the sponge.

Crowley noticed this little change in behavior and inwardly grinned. So, this angel seemed to like being touched, despite acting out so much. 

He stared at the faucet to make it close itself first, so he could pay full attention to the angel without being interrupted. Crowley started slowing down his hand motion, turning it more sensual the lower he got. He knelt down to submerge his arm in the water to reach the angel's lower back, and then his arse.

Aziraphale gasped out when he felt where the sponge had reached and he flinched away, red faced. The sponge had felt so nice against his neglected skin and he had let his guard down, relaxing into the ministrations. 

He grit his teeth and forced himself to still, then lean back slightly and hunch forward in a bid to protect himself. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, and surely his arse would be numb by the end of the demon cleaning him, but at least now his owner wouldn’t be able to touch him there so easily.

Crowley was only more amused by how the angel was still fighting against the pleasure. He was _clearly_ into it. He wondered how long it would be until he broke this cute little effort, no pun intended.

"Come on now, you don't want your arse to be itchy and sticky do ya?" asked the demon, with a hint of sarcastic concern. "I would've allowed you to clean yourself, but as we've seen, you declined my offer."

“You could just use a miracle to do it,” Aziraphale muttered but didn’t do anything else, annoyed that he did want to be scrubbed completely clean. Though he would take being itchy and sticky over having a demon touch him there again.

The demon arched an eyebrow. "You're right. I could,"

Then he used his free hand to take a hold of the link between the arm cuff and yanked it, forcing Aziraphale on his knees and hands. Causing Aziraphale to let out an enraged noise at being yanked forward and forced to bare his arse. How dare he just... just...

Crowley held the link firmly to the bottom of the bath, forcing the angel to stay this way as he dipped the sponge into the water to give it more moisture and gently damped the angel's bottom. "But doesn't it feel better this way, darling?"

The demon held himself back from peaking at the underside of this angel. He wasn't like the other demons. He was no pervert. He would get his chance later. Most importantly, these places needed a good soap rubbing everyday if he was going to use them.

“Don’t you dare call me that.” Aziraphale snarled and yanked his wrists back towards himself but was unable to do much else. He hated that he wasn’t strong enough to wrench his binds away from his owner. Even more, he hated how much he was enjoying the gentle touches, having been without for so long.

“Just miracle me clean if you’re so insistent, don’t just draw this out!” the angel hissed and then blushed as his knees subconsciously opened wider, parting his legs just a bit more as he was so used to doing by now.

Gritting his teeth Aziraphale cursed the almighty for creating muscle memory. Wishing that he didn’t crave the soft care he was being shown, no matter what the intentions behind them may be.

* * *

Crowley ignored the angel's angry hissing and snarling. Continuing on with his little game, he carefully stroked the soft material on the sensitive skin between the angel’s cheeks.

As with all the rest, this one had had a vulva manifested where his arsehole was supposed to be. It wasn’t like they were going to need that body part. Especially when what Hell wanted from them was a supply of new demons.

The best thing about the vulva was that it was designed to be awfully sensitive. For angels, anyway, to increase the success rate. He hadn't had an angel that wouldn't yelp or mewl at his touches.

While Crowley wasn't going to get ahead of himself and use his hand, he let the tool do his work for him. He squeezed the soap water onto the back entrance of his demon-breeder. He let the water drip through every gap, indifferently, and then rubbed the edge of the sponge between those folds.

Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip when he felt a hot throbbing begin. He focused on his breathing, trying hard not to let out a whimper. At least he hadn’t done more than clean him... for now.

There was one thing Crowley did do as the angel asked though. He finished his cleaning of the underside swiftly, but thoroughly. Not even a linger. Once done, he lifted his property back to sitting on his arse.

  
  


The angel was so caught up in doing everything he could to ignore what was happening and thus, when he was lifted, he let out a squeak. Aziraphale then hunched forward, trying to curl around his binds so that his owner couldn’t pull him by them again.

Crowley observed his little plaything's behavior for a moment. The angel was definitely enjoying what he did but still tried to protest. The corner of his lips curled in amusement as he washed the sponge in the water and applied new body wash to it. "Come on, angel, you wanted this to go over fast, and yet you are the one stalling. Lean back, so I can wash your front."

Aziraphale shook his head, glaring down at the water and hunched in on himself even more. He told himself he wouldn’t make this easy and he planned to keep at it. Perhaps the demon would see that he wasn’t worth the effort to deal with and just take him back. Not like that place was any better, but it would be so satisfying to know that he still hadn’t given in to their whims.

He refused to become some decile little toy, like he was only a womb and nothing else. No, if they wanted to force him into carrying more fledglings, then he wouldn’t make it out to seem like anything other than what it was.

Unfortunately, Aziraphale was dead wrong. Watching the angel trying his best to resist the temptation and pleasure only turned the Serpent of Eden on even more. After all, tempting a virtuous soul was always the most thrilling.

He sighed though, because it looked like he needed to use some force after all. He snapped his fingers and Aziraphale's arms were forced up. The cuffs stuck onto the wall behind him as if there was a strong magnet pulling it. 

"As I said, if you are going to stay in my home, you will be thoroughly cleaned," he growled.

Aziraphale snarled and yanked against the magnetic feeling, right then would have been the sensible moment to just comply. Obviously he knew this was going to happen, but in his frustration, Aziraphale did the opposite of calm. He kicked and thrashed, causing the water to slosh and splash out of the tub.

* * *

Crowley backed away from the water, not wanting to get himself soaked. He wasn't really concerned if what he just did had hurt the angel. It wasn't even an impossible angle for a human. It only mildly annoyed him that he would have to clean the floor afterward.

He waited until Aziraphale was finally tired of thrashing about and sighed. "Are you done?"

Aziraphale panted hard, and glared at the demon with hatred. In response to his question he just turned his head to the side, no longer trying to fight. He was tempted to wait until his owner got close to start up again, but decided it wasn’t worth it. So, reluctantly, he side eyed the demon and then miserably nodded to show that he was.

"Good," said Crowley, coldly before smirking.

"I'm sure I have demonstrated enough how uncomfortable it is for someone else to wash you," said the demon, passing the sponge from one hand to another as he spoke. "I hate using force when I could just give you choices. So here's the deal. 

I can uncuff you and let you wash yourself up, angel, if you are willing to do that without trashing my bathroom, _or_ I cuff your feet also and have it my way."

Aziraphale swallowed and felt frustrated tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. This had to be a trick, demon’s didn’t give choices unless they benefited them. There had to be a catch, but at this point he would gladly just finish washing up himself.

“T-the first one... I’ll do it.” He said quietly, not looking over at his owner, nor wanting to see the smug look that would most likely be on his face.

Crowley _did_ have a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "See, not that hard," said the demon. Angels were always so stubborn. But he loved that, especially the flush on their face.

The demon snapped the hand-cuff out of Aziraphale's wrists. It reappeared in the sink with the collar. He waited for a moment to see if the angel was going to attempt an attack on him though. While he could easily stop him in this state, he never liked it when things turned physical.

Aziraphale stayed still, eyes downcast as he waited to see what the catch would be. He would probably be forced to clean himself while riding his owner’s...cock, or something just as humiliating. After a few moments, he gingerly brought both hands up to his chest rubbed at the sore reddened areas on either one.

When Crowley was certain nothing was going to happen, he stepped closer and dropped the sponge into the bath in front of the angel. "Take as long as you need," said the demon.

He backed away to lean his rear on the sink counter, arms folded and waited.

Aziraphale peeked up at where the demon moved to and then slowly reached out to grab the sponge. He frowned at being watched, and slowly turned slightly to the side. 

He began to wash his arms and a moment later, started to visibly relax. By the time they were clean he stopped side eying his owner every few minutes and even moaned softly as the sponge was used on his chest.

Crowley found himself enjoying this more than he usually did. His old properties were offered the same treatment, of course, but they didn't seem as indulging as the angel in front of him now.

He watched as Aziraphale drowned himself in the moment. There was no doubt the angel had done this many times before. An angel who sullied himself in the act of mortals, like bathing, was certainly intriguing.

"Make sure to wash your hair also," he jerked his chin toward the shelf of various shampoos and hair conditioners, where he also kept the body wash. "Any fragrance you like."

Aziraphale tensed, having not realized he had lost himself in the moment. Blushing, he mumbled out an “ok”, before moving towards the shelf and just grabbing something at random. Not caring at the moment what he used, as long as it would make this be over faster.

He sat back down and quickly finished washing his stomach and legs. Once that was done he poured some of the bottle he grabbed into his hands and quickly started lathering his hair. Moments later he ducked his head into the water and washed it all out.

“Am I finally finished?” He huffed, setting the sponge aside.

"Hmmm, I believe you've missed quite a spot," replied Crowley. By now he had completely moved to sit on the counter, one leg up to rest his elbow on, his other leg swaying casually. 

"I don't think I had the chance to wash your front genitals earlier. And I said clean yourself thoroughly, didn't I?" his lips curled.

Aziraphale’s nostrils flared and he grabbed the sponge again. Though he couldn’t help but think the demon would have looked attractive in the position he sat in if he wasn’t being a massive wanker.

"Get out when you're done," said the demon, pushing himself off the counter to get one of the towels from the rack.

With a glare, Aziraphale twisted so that he was angled away, but still able to see if his owner tried to get close, and began gently scrubbing at his cock. He bit his lip, trying to stifle any moans he was sure to make. Thankfully, he only moaned out once when he had touched a particularly nice spot on the head of it.

The angel stepped out of the water once he was done and shifted from foot to foot, unsure what would be asked of him after being allowed to dry off. _Well no,_ he had a basic idea of what was about to happen. He had to force himself to stay in the room and not try to run.

Crowley didn't make a comment about the moan, but he made a mental note of how good it was. Once the angel finally submitted to him, he would make sure to get himself an ear full. He offered the towel to Aziraphale when he walked past him. "Dry yourself off. Wait in the living room if you'd prefer," said the demon, leaning to unclog the tub.

“If i’d...” Aziraphale began, holding the towel loosely in his hands, forehead scrunching up, “if I’d prefer?” Was he giving him a chance to get comfortable before he had his way with him?

"Did I stutter? I don't care if you stay or leave," Crowley said indifferently. He didn't turn around, busy rinsing the tub clean for himself. Once done, he let the warm water run.

Aziraphale flinched at the answer and quickly wrapped the towel around himself. Then he quickly padded off to the side of the bathroom, and leaned against the wall right beside the door.

This had to be a trick, if his owner was going to take a bath then why would he just want him in another room. This was another choice, but it definitely had to be a trick, there was a catch or maybe it was some sort of test.

Aziraphale didn’t know, and he didn’t feel like leaving only to have been set up for failure. So he stayed and slid down the wall so he could sit, keeping his eyes averted to the floor.

Though, he couldn’t help but peek up at the demon as he continued to hear the rustling of fabric.

The demon unrolled his sleeves and started opening up buttons as he waited for the new water to fill his bath. He didn't even check if the angel was still there when he dropped his belt to the floor and started undoing his shirt and suspenders. A while later, Crowley kicked the pile of clothing he had discarded aside. 

Now only in his boots and trousers, the demon bent down, lifting his leg so he could unzip the boots. One of his hands propped on the edge of the bath for support. 

His feet turned out to be covered in tiny black scales, like that of a snake, his shoulders, if looked carefully, also had similar traits. He dropped the boots, causing a loud sound as the metallic midsole hit the ground. The demon did the same to his other boot and finally his trousers also went off. 

He snapped, turning off the faucet and made the pile of clothing vanish into the hamper, with the exception of the boots, which went to appear near the entrance door of his living quarters.

Only when he turned a few degrees to get the soap water that he 'noticed' the angel was still there. 

"Interesting choice," he chuckled. "Curious?"

Aziraphale had been looking at the scales in fascination but when the demon spoke he flinched back, eyes averting to the side. Instead of answering, he just pulled his legs against his chest tightly. He was, but that didn’t mean he wanted his owner to know that.

When nothing else was said to him, Aziraphale got the nerve to peek back over at the demon and watched Crowley get his bath ready. 

The demon was pouring the soap in and twirled the water with his hand. It was strange that he cared about cleanliness so much, he could understand why his owner would want him clean. But normally the demons he had been with didn’t care too much and especially not when it came to themselves. So this was... quite unusual and admittedly unsettling not to understand exactly what was going on in the demon's head. 

He watched his owner test the water and the moment his effort was put on display Aziraphale’s eyes widened. He quickly looked away again and felt his face growing hot. _Two, there were two of them!_

He shuddered at this realization, though it wasn’t completely due to revulsion.

The demon sunk himself into the pleasantly warm water and let out a satisfied hum. He rested his head at the end of the tub, both arms laid alongside the rim. He relaxed himself, closing his eyes for a long while.

Then, without looking, he lazily waved a hand and stool with a bottle of red wine and two glasses appeared next to the tub. He sat up, pouring wine into one glass, then looked at the angel at the corner of the room. 

"Want some?" he asked.

With a swallow, Aziraphale nervously looked over to see what the demon was offering. Blinking, he tilted his head confused, his owner was offering him wine? He hadn’t had wine in a very long time. He swallowed again, mouth starting to salivate at the prospect of actually getting to enjoy a glass of red. 

“I...” he began, licking at his bottom lip, eyes locked onto the glass that had been filled. When he glanced up to look at his owner, it was with suspicion. “I… would...like some,” he said slowly, watching his owner’s expression for any hint of what this was about.

Crowley smiled, for once not looking smug or teasing. He filled the other glass as well then set the bottle aside.

"Then come get yours," the demon gestured to the other glass left on the stool. He then leaned back into the water and took a sip of the wine, closing his eyes once again.

Not able to tell that this was some sort of trick, Aziraphale slowly stood up. He tightly gripped at his towel, trying to keep himself covered, and padded over to get the glass before walking backwards until he hit the wall with his foot. He slid back down to sit again and took a sniff of the wine, attempting to smell anything that might be off about it.

Satisfied that it seemed to be normal wine, from what he remembered at least. The angel took a small sip and then coughed, throat burning slightly from the alcohol. He definitely wasn’t used to the drink anymore, but it tasted pleasant enough. So he took a bigger sip once he felt that he could and sighed at the warmth that spread from the fermented drink.

Crowley side-eyed the angel, to see if he was enjoying himself. When it looked like so, he smirked subtly. 

"How's it?" he asked. "I've waited to taste this one for years. Had to get in on the whole World War the humans started… Now that I'm done with that crap, I deserve some damn good wine," he rambled, then took a moment to drink from his glass.

"Mmm ... Probably even better to have someone to drink with," Crowley lowered his glass and rested his head on his knuckles, eyes seeming a tad distant.

* * *

At first, Aziraphale stiffened and almost spit the wine out when his owner asked how it was. Though as he continued to speak he forced himself to swallow, annoyed that just two words made him feel that way.

He hesitated but took another sip, and watched the demon curiously. He seemed...off. Perhaps lonely in a way? 

With another sip of his wine Aziraphale mulled that thought over, then scowled to himself. Good. Served the demon right. Though he’d be happier if he could just smite him. 

Unfortunately with his grace locked away for what was most likely the rest of his now torturous existence, he would just have to take satisfaction in seeing any off moments the demon had, like right now.

"Not much of a talker are you?" Crowley looked at him, arching a brow. "Was hoping you weren't like the past ones. They weren't much to converse with."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and set the rest of his wine to the side.

“Oh, well I’m sorry.” He started testily, “what would you like me to say? After all, it is such an _honor_ you actually want to ‘converse’ with me,” he said sarcastically, annoyed that his owner just kept talking. 

You would think the demon would have realized he didn’t want anything to do with him, but he just kept trying to engage one way or another.

Crowley pushed himself up to sit straighter. He leaned forward so that both his arms rested on the same side of the bath. 

"Just like that," he grinned mischievously. He finished his glass and poured himself another. "At least response when I talk to you, angel. If I wanted a lifeless sex doll I'd have bought them from the humans.”

Ugh, great he played into what the demon wanted. So all of this was just to get a rise out of him, wasn’t it?

“Whatever, not like you won’t treat me like one.” Aziraphale muttered under his breath and twisted so that his side was to the demon, signaling he was done with the conversation already. Then he picked up his wine and downed the rest of it in a single gulp.

Crowley blinked very slowly. His eyes darkened for a moment and soon he was back to the comfortable position in the bath like before. 

"Believe what you want. I don't think so far anything I've done has proven your theory," he lazily spun the glass of wine in his hand. "Besides, you do like to have company, don't you? Your record says you frequent a gentlemen's club. Quite unusual for an angel, don't you think?" He glanced at the angel with a little curl at the corner of his lips.

Aziraphale bristled at that. _How dare he! How. Dare. He!_

He spun where he sat and threw the now empty wine glass in the demon’s direction, causing it to shatter against the wall and then stood up and stormed out of the bathroom.

Not all of those clubs were salacious things. He only went there because he had made friends with some of the humans that liked to frequent that specific one. They would invite him there for drinks and to overall just have a nice time. 

His nails dug into the palms of his hands, tears welling up in his eyes as he thought about how much time had passed. How those humans were most likely dead now. 

He wanted to be dead too, at least that way this nightmare would be over.


	2. Television

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aziraphale discovered how out of touch with the outside world he was, and how weird his new owner could be.

Crowley was genuinely surprised by the display of anger. The demon had to pull his leg up to avoid getting cut. He miracled the shards out of the tub and reformed the glass. 

The demon made no attempt to follow Aziraphale. After all he had put a demonic influence on the front door. The angel shouldn't be able to go further than the shoe rack. He probably needed to be alone anyway.

This angel, as expected, was a very difficult one. Crowley was glad he had the patience of a hunting serpent. And so he finished his drink and focused on the bathing, making sure by the time he was done, that stinking, gut wrenching smell he had gotten from being outside was gone.

It had taken a quarter of an hour for Crowley to finally get out of the bathroom - towel wrapped around him - to check on the angel.

Aziraphale sat on the floor, back against the side of the couch and hunched over on himself. His towel was still tightly wrapped around himself and he had his arms over his head, face pressed into his knees.

He could hear the demon finally coming into the room and he trembled. A few minutes after leaving the bathroom had been when Aziralphale realized what he had done, and cold dread had filled him, knowing he had gone too far.

He just knew he would be punished somehow and now that he heard the demon? He was terrified.

Crowley stood by the entrance of the bathroom, leaning against it with a forearm pressing on the door frame. In his free hand was the bottle containing the rest of the wine. 

The angel seemed to have calmed down at least, frightened even, and he didn't pity him all that much. The silly thing wouldn't have been so scared if he hadn't acted on his anger. Was it that hard to just hold a normal conversation?

The duke of Hell came over and placed the bottle of wine next to the angel who immediately tried to hunch in on himself even more, sure the demon was about to do something to him. Only to swallow as setting the wine down was all that happened. "You may have the rest," Crowley muttered as he sat down on the sofa and continued drying his hair.

"Whatever I said that was upsetting, you must have misunderstood my intention," said the demon, in a civilized manner. "If I mention a topic you don't want to talk about, I'd prefer you to use your words, and not try to discoporate me. Not that it will work in your favor anyway."

* * *

Why did he sound so civil right now? Surely he was just playing with him...surely?

Slowly Aziraphale’s arms moved off the top of his head and he peeked around the couch. At the sight of his owner just drying his hair, he ducked back and then peeped over the armrest.

What was the demon playing at? He didn’t seem like he was about to beat him for what happened, and he even gave him the last of the wine. What exactly was this?

Aziraphale ducked back down and then, after hesitating for a moment, moved to see over the armrest again and gnawed at his lip.

“Sorry.” The angel quietly said, deciding to at least try and do something to respond. He didn’t really mean it, but if the demon was trying to be civil after he had pulled that? 

Well, there was definitely a reason behind it and he really didn’t want to know what it could be. Especially now that they were both clean.

All he could hope for now was that what would happen next would be over quickly.

Lucky for Aziraphale, for Crowley that was a good reaction.

The serpent hung the towel around his shoulder. That was a very positive sign that his method was working. The angel had apologized without him even demanding it. He doubted any other demon had managed this without some form of violence, judging from the scars littered all over the angel's skin.

Fucking idiots. Damaging a beautiful body. 

Surely he always told them looks didn't matter. After all, his job was to cause mayhem on Earth, and occasionally hand over a litter of little demons. None of which had anything to do with the appearance of his breeder. But quite the opposite, really, Crowley wanted his goods undamaged. He might not have much use for them but they shouldn't look like they had been passed around.

Unfortunately this would be asking too much of Hell.

To the demon’s dismay, Aziraphale’s body, once cleaned thoroughly, revealed to be a map of scars and bruises. They varied from the obvious result of punishments - long lashes on the back, accompanied by the remnants of vicious clawing; scarring from being bound with thick ropes - to the lesser visible bite marks. Someone had given the angel a pair of golden nipple piercings, which Crowley wasn’t opposed to, though he definitely would work on changing the uncreative design.

"Good," said the demon, standing up. "I would have offered you something to wear, you deserve some sort of punishments. So you are going to remain naked until I say otherwise, hmm, and finish that bottle." With a playful chuckle, the demon sauntered to his bedroom to look for new clothes.

Aziraphale dipped back down and looked at the bottle with a frown, he didn’t know how that could be a punishment since he actually liked wine. So obviously this part of his punishment was very suspicious to him. For all he knew, the demon could have put something else in it, tampered with the drink to make him sick somehow. It wouldn’t be the first time one made the punishment mirror what he had done, so for all he knew, the wine probably had bits of glass in it or something equally terrible.

What really was a punishment was the fact he wasn’t going to be allowed anything to wear. Well… he hardly ever was allowed but still, after everything he had gone through, it made being naked feel terrible.

Which in itself was a terrible thing as angels shouldn’t care if they were bare or not, but he did and he hated it. Even though he had grown used to being unclothed, he craved the comfort and protection of them, and being denied with the subtle knowledge that he may have been allowed such a thing? It was upsetting enough to bring tears to his eyes for a few moments.

Though, in an effort to keep from having further punishment, he gingerly picked up the bottle and opened it. He could just chug it quickly. It would all take only a few seconds to go down.

He gulped and moved to lift it to his lips and then set it down, nerves getting to him for a moment. What if... what if there _really_ was something wrong with it though? 

He shook, eyes darting to the bedroom and one hand moving to subconsciously touch his lower stomach, feeling some of the scars there. Then, with a sniffle, he downed the bottle and coughed hard after drinking it all; the burning from the alcohol ended up being a welcome distraction from his thoughts.

* * *

Crowley came back out a while later in a loose grey shirt and black trousers. He was pretty sure he heard the angel cough and was hoping he hadn’t spat the wine all over his rugs. Thankfully that wasn't the case. He’d hate to think of another punishment so soon, not when he was trying to build a positive image. It did look like the angel had done what he was told though.

"You could have savored it, you know," he commented as he walked past Aziraphale, seeing the empty bottle. "I didn't say you had to do it in one go."

Aziraphale just averted his eyes when his owner spoke, not quite sure what to say and too miserable to do much else as the demon laid on his back on the sofa. He just wished the demon would already take him, not that he wanted it to happen but they always ended up trying to the moment he got back to their quarters. This whole situation was just putting him on edge and making him miserable not knowing what to expect now.

Crowley clicked his fingers together, turning on the television. There shouldn't be anything airing at this time, since the Second World War was still going on, and broadcasting on television was still suspended. But for a demon, it was hardly a problem.

The TV flipped itself to a channel where a show called Guest Night was showing. It was quite frankly the only episode he ever watched of it, and the only human TV show he remembered enough to make the TV replay. The host had invited a botanist where they discussed things about plants.

All of a sudden Aziraphale heard more voices and he gasped, scrambling back to hide behind the couch before having a chance to see who it was. His heart pounded hard and he curled in on himself, why were there more voices? Had his owner invited guests over? 

Was that why he wanted him clean and hadn’t moved to try anything yet?

Why were they just discussing plants?

* * *

Crowley heard the scrambling and lifted his head to look. When he didn't see the angel where he was anymore, it confused the demon. He sat up and looked around, then turned to look behind his sofa.

"What's up with you now?" he asked, genuinely surprised, but also curious. The angel looked horrified. But he hadn't done anything yet.

Aziraphale’s lips wobbled and he peeked up at the demon. 

“P...” He started to speak, eyes darting around the part of the room he could see before landing back on his owner, “p-please d-don’t...” he spoke quietly, knowing it wouldn’t stop his owner from letting whoever do what their original plans were. 

But it was worth a try at least, well probably not but earlier he had said to speak up, so... so maybe it wouldn’t be too terrible if he at least said something. It was honestly probably a terrible mistake to even voice this out loud, the demon might get a kick out of his terror, but still. 

“I-ill be good, so p-please d-don’t.” Aziraphale said softly and then ducked into a ball when he heard someone laugh. Whether it was because of something to do with the plants or what he just said, he didn’t know, but it still frightened him nonetheless.

The serpent had no clue what to make of it. He couldn't think of a reasonable enough explanation for the angel's sudden panic. Was he still afraid from what happened before? Then why didn't he panic this much then? 

"I don't know why you are upset," he frowned. Understanding the mindset of an angel was hard, let alone an angel kidnapped into the depths of Hell to be a breeder. What could have triggered this? 

Either way, he wasn't enjoying how the angel was always cowering, or pissed off at him. Even after all the nice things he had done. Or rather, he considered anything that could make the angel trust him ‘nice’. He was a demon. He couldn't actually be ‘nice’.

"Listen, I am not even doing anything to you and you are acting up again already," he growled. "I'm just watchin-"

He paused and looked back at the screen, then back at the angel. "Do you not like plants?"

“Wh-w-what?” Aziraphale stuttered out, now he was confused.

“I-I-I l-like plan-plants.” He stuttered out tearily, and uncurled from his position just a bit, eyes darting around the room again. When he still didn’t see anyone from where he was, he slowly moved to sit up and wipe his tears away.

He didn’t want to risk his owner’s confusion turning into a rage and so he sat back on his heels. If he behaved it wouldn’t be so bad, right?

“I-I’m sorry for u-upsetting you. Please d-don’t let them be r-rough with m-me.” He sobbed out and shook so bad he ended up hunching forward a bit.

He may enjoy some roughness, but the last time it had been way past what he was able to take. He couldn’t imagine going through that again, he would take it if his owner wanted him too, but if the others in the room also liked that, then he didn’t think he would be able to stand it.

* * *

Okay. So it wasn't the plants. 

Crowley thought, at first. But then that left him with no other conclusion as to why the angel was so frightened. The way he kept using unclear pronouns also annoyed him. Was he still talking about the plants or something else?

"I am not going to judge," he folded his arms on the top of the sofa, peering down at Aziraphale. His eyes glinted with interest. "but I'm afraid none of my plants are sentient enough for your needs," he chuckled. "The dumb lot of them can't even grow right."

His little smile faded to a cold stare. "Jokes aside. There's only you and me here. Be more specific, angel. Who are you babbling about?"

Aziraphale looked at the demon with miserable confusion and then wiped at his eyes again.

“J-just us?” He sniffled, and then flinched as the voices on the tv continued to speak. But then how were there other voices?

“B-but I-I c-can hear others t-talking.” He wiped at his eyes some more, his owner must just be trying to be cruel. He could hear others, so there had to be other demons.

“I-I’m afraid I don’t u-understand...” he stopped speaking, this was funny to the demon wasn’t it? He was enjoying pretending no one was here but the two of them.

“Angel, It’s just the te-”

Oh.

_Oh!_

It finally clicked in Crowley's mind. That was the problem? But these were voices from the television. How could the angel mistake it for actual people? Had he never- 

"Oh," the thought became audible through the demon's lips. He had forgotten that this angel was from a time where television wasn't a thing yet. It made so much more sense now. It wasn't like Hell allowed him to catch up with modern technology. 

Heck, Hell didn't even know what a telephone was until Crowley introduced it to them years ago.

He reached out a hand from where he was atop the sofa for Aziraphale to take. "Get up. There's nothing to worry about. You might enjoy it even."

Aziraphale’s lip wobbled but he did as was asked of him, he just knew he wasn’t going to enjoy this. He shook violently, hand taking his owner’s and squeezed his eyes shut, he didn’t want to see who else was here.hat if one of them previously owned him? He didn’t want to see if that was the case, and sobbed aloud as he waited for his owner to make it known how and where he wanted him.

Crowley pulled the angel to his feet. "Open your eyes. There's no one," he said, surprisingly soothing. He guided Aziraphale around the sofa to stand in front of the screen. "It's just the sound from the television, angel."

Seriously, he didn't know how the angel could think he would get another demon in here after seeing how much he hated the sort of things out there. He'd rather drink from a baptistery.

Slowly Aziraphale opened his eyes and, when he saw there really was no one, he blinked. 

“T-television?” He sniffled, and wiped at his eyes, taking in the strange box that had moving images. 

How was there moving images and sound coming from the box?

The demon casually placed an arm around Aziraphale's shoulders. "It's one of the latest human inventions, angel. It's complicated to explain how this thing works but it's for entertainment and spreading news."

"Come on, sit down," he pressed the angel gently but firmly on the sofa. "Have a watch."

He then settled down on the other end of the couch. There wasn't enough space for them both if he lay down so Crowley leaned back, resting both legs on the coffee table. "You won't find a second one in Hell, I am certain about that," the demon bragged, excited even.

Aziraphale still shook slightly, but it was much less noticeable as he visibly relaxed. He nodded along to what his owner said and slowly pulled his legs up to his chest as he watched the people moving around. After a few moments, a small smile appeared on his face, enjoying having something to focus on that didn’t have to do with his predicament.

Crowley relaxed into the comfort of the seat and leaned his head on one fist, with his elbow pressed against the armrest. He also watched the two humans throwing questions and information back and forth, but could hardly concentrate anymore.

He kept glancing over to check on his newly acquired property. The angel seemed to have stopped trembling and was even smiling. He took it as a good sign. Another positive thing to his list of do’s and don'ts that he had mentally started in mind. He stayed quiet though, not wanting to break the angel out of his moment. 

Crowley wasn't in the mood to deal with skeptical eyes again.

* * *

The show went on for a long while, and the demon - having watched it countless times already - drifted off to sleep. His face slipped from his hand and he shifted to lay on his side more comfortably.

As the people stopped talking and ended what they were speaking about, Aziraphale pouted. _It was ending already?_

He wanted to keep listening to them, it was so nice to see other beings even if they didn’t interact with anything outside of the box. At least they mentioned a ‘next time’, so maybe he would see them again?

After the show fully ended Aziraphale was startled out of his thoughts by the box making static and he flinched. The fact that the humans disappeared into blackness and what sounded like a swarm of flies had Aziraphale flinging his body over the edge of the couch and scrambling to find somewhere to hide.

Were the humans dead? Did one of the fly demons kill them? His owner said it broadcasted the images, he had a vague idea about what that meant, so seeing the static abruptly appear was terrifying.

He finally made his way to the front door and yanked on the handle, only to yelp and jump back from the door. He lifted his hands up to cradle them from the shock he received, scowling. A moment later, he remembered why he was so worked up and at seeing no other demons in the room, he tentatively made his way back to the tv.

Ok, so the...flies?... lice? Couldn’t see him and he tapped at the screen experimentally. It felt like glass. Huh, that was kinda neat.

Aziraphale tapped at it again and then peered over his shoulder at his owner, wondering why he hadn’t yelled at him for trying to escape. 

The demon’s eyes were shut and he only just barely realized he must have fallen asleep. He had forgotten humans slept and since what he was looking at was similar, he figured that’s what it had to be.

It was amazing how he could still sleep with such an irritating noise coming from the tele- the picture box. 

The angel turned to look at the box. There were round knobs on it, with symbols indicating that they could be turned. He read the labels carefully and his expression relaxed to see words he understood like "volume". He tried turning it all the way down and smiled when the sound died off and disappeared completely. The 'flies' were still there but at least the noise was gone. 

Aziraphale turned to look at the demon again. He was still asleep. Or was he? Could this be another trick to test him?

Biting the inside of his cheek, Aziraphale tried to think of what his owner could possibly be testing him on. He couldn’t kill the demon with his grace being bound and locked away, so it couldn’t possibly be something to do with that. Actually, it might be, since he could always try and injure him. No. The demon would just be back once re-corporated.

Maybe it was to see if he could find a way to escape?

Aziraphale didn’t enjoy not knowing what his owner had planned. He was different from the others he had been with, different enough to make all of this confusing, and even more maddening than normal. There had to be a way to figure this out without giving away what he was trying.

Aziraphale eyed his owner and frowned, that couldn’t be a comfortable position, could it? 

With a swallow, he tentatively moved towards him. Maybe he ought to try moving him some? If anything, fixing the position his owner was sleeping in would be a good excuse. Plausible deniability and all that.

Slowly, Aziraphale picked one leg up by the ankle and back of the knee and he set it onto the couch. Then he did the same with his other’s leg and watched nervously to see if he would wake up.

Thankfully the demon didn't seem to have noticed. Aziraphale watched him sleep for a while longer. A small little thought about how good looking the demon was crossed his mind. He quickly dismissed it. No. He might look better than the other monsters who had owned him, but the angel would never want to consider a demon attractive.

He needed to find an escape.

Aziraphale stood up and walked as quietly as he could around the living quarters. He peeked into the bedroom since it was the only place he hadn't taken a look yet.

There was a double sized bed, a wardrobe and several other things Aziraphale had no idea what they were for; he only recognized the pair of dark glasses. The captive didn't care much though, because there was a window on one side of the room. His eyes lit up, full of hope. Outside was a beautiful path lined with vegetation. It reminded him - quite an awful lot - of Eden.

The angel ran over and tried to slide the window open. It wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. He could probably fit through and-

His heart sank when he saw what was on the other side. There was no garden. Only a cold, lifeless realistic painting. Aziraphale growled. In denial, he pried the picture out of its slot, only to be more disappointed by a wall of soil and rocks. So they really were still underground then? 

And this bloody wanker of a demon had the audacity to make a window _just because_?!

His lips trembled as he closed the window and stood there for a long while, trying not to cry again. There surely must be another way out of here.

There _had_ to be a way out of here; It was unlikely, high ranking demon or not, for there to not be some sort of alternate exit.

Aziraphale took a deep breath, and then focused on breathing evenly. If he panicked again then he would get nowhere. He just needed to remember his Heavenly training is all, keep a level head and what not.

Though that was easier said than done. Despite the front door shocking him as he struggled to open it earlier, he had gone back to it again once he had run out of options..

So while he couldn’t sense the exact wards or whatever his owner was using, he figured muscling through might work. 

After several trials. It seemed to not be the case. Aziraphale thought he should try again another chance, seeing he wasn’t able to make much noise now or the demon would wake up. Even trying to use his towel to wrap around his hand as he turned the knob - to dampen the horrid feeling - wasn’t helping any.

Frustrated he stomped his foot and shoved part of the towel in his mouth, screaming and tearing at it.

After a while, Aziraphale moved back to sit on the floor next to the couch. He crossed his arms, pouting. Even when he got a demon he could easily escape from, nothing was in his favor. Though perhaps the reason why the bastard was so comfortable sleeping was because he was certain about the security of his home; which admittedly, Aziraphale agreed.

The angel adjusted his posture and for a moment, his bottom brushed against the rug the right way. He had to quickly clasped a hand to his mouth before the moan could escape him. 

Aziraphale blushed. He glanced at the sleeping demon again, then swallowed thickly. He pressed his hands on the floor for support and rubbed his bottom against the fabric of the rug again. 

_Oh... oh dear_

It felt good. Really good. Especially after what had happened in the bath earlier. His vulva had been aching ever since, but he didn't have the mind to think about it, too busy being wary of his new owner.

Now that there was nothing to do...

The angel bit his lips. He shouldn't do this out in the open like this though..

But it just... Oh it just felt so good. He clenched his bottom, trying to lessen the arching need he felt but it was no use. 

He knew this was a bad idea, but he just ached so badly. He just needed to find somewhere private, somewhere he could clean up quickly. 

Slowly he stood and went to the bathroom, and shut the door behind himself before taking a deep breath. Ok just do this quickly, take the edge off and then hope his owner was still asleep after he finished cleaning up. 

He moved to the tub and sat down on his heels, bottom raised just high enough he could easily move to it without his wrist being bent awkwardly. Then with one last glance at the door, he licked a stripe along his hand and palmed the head of his cock. 

His other hand moved to his mouth and he sucked on two of his fingers before moving them back to gently rub against his vulva. Even if he was aroused, he wanted to make sure his fingers would be slick enough to slide in right away.

Slicking his fingers was also still a habit he hadn’t broken himself of, from the time he hadn’t been forced to wear a vulva back there. He had, admittedly, hardly seen the appeal of a vulva before. Yes, he had enjoyed wearing one at times, but they were just so… messy. Besides, as far as he was aware, the appeal of such a sex organ were the little spots inside and as long as he made sure to have a prostate when making a “Male” effort, it was just as good as if he had a vulva, in his opinion at least.

Though now, he was quite used to such an effort and he could hardly be faulted for the way his corporation reacted to the sensations and urges it sent through him, could he?

And to think, his arousal used to embarrass him so. Especially when it happened shortly after having a vulva forced upon him that first time. 

Now he enjoyed these stolen moments to himself, it was a way to take back control of his pleasure even if that was a depressing way to look at this.

* * *

Crowley stirred awake just as abruptly as he had fallen asleep. He turned to lay on his back, and stretched his legs fully. The demon placed an arm over his eyes, not wanting to blind himself looking at the light on the ceiling. 

Then, he remembered something and turned to the television. There was static on the screen, but someone had turned off the sound. Who- Oh...

Crowley propped himself up by the elbow to look around the living room, then sat up fully to check behind the sofa.

The angel he brought home was nowhere to be seen. It wasn't all too alarming. He knew Aziraphale couldn't escape his 'house'. He flicked his tongue, tasting the air to track the angel.

His smell was still strong in the air. Crowley could tell he wasn't far away. 

But what was this other funny taste on his tongue?

A few other licks and Crowley grinned. 

He knew what _it_ was.

* * *

Aziraphale moaned softly as his thumb rubbed against his frenulum. He shut his eyes, bucking his hips forward slightly. _Oh!_ That was just such a nice feeling.

“A-ah, oooohuh,” he made soft little sounds as he pressed two fingers into his vulva and rocked back slightly. He pressed them further in and rubbed a bit hard at one spot - causing him to squeak - and bite at his lip. Fuck. Sensitive. S _o sensitive._

Everything _burned_. He couldn’t stop panting and pressing back against his fingers. It just felt so good, and he shifted, almost slipping as his knees moved through the small puddle of slick that had run down his legs.

Fuck, why did the...Ah!... why did the demons... _m-mm-mmaaoh mooah_ .... the demons make his vulva so... _o-o-oh oh OH!_... so sensitive?!

“Ah, oooooah, o-o-oh oh mmm oooaaah!” He moaned out, head falling back as his hips stuttered and pre-cum dribbled out of the tip of his penis. He was so close, so _so_ close.

* * *

Crowley followed the interesting smell on his tongue, which led him to the bathroom. And before he could even get close to it, his ears already picked up the moaning.

The demon stopped just a few steps away from the entrance. He didn't want to enter, of course. It sounded like the angel was having one of his private moments. Crowley thought he shouldn't intrude. Though his reasoning was far from a polite concerned housemate.

The serpent knew if he walked in and saw his angel, naked among the mess he had made himself, he wouldn't be able to hold back. He would press that plump arse up against a wall, or whatever available, and breed him senseless.

But no... It was still too soon for that. He would rather for it to be initiated by the angel. After all, his goal was to break the most stubborn one of all, and using force was never his style.

It didn't help though, that his body was reacting to the angel's moaning. He could feel that familiar fire igniting in his groin. As much as he wanted to hear the end of this, Crowley forced himself to turn around and went back to the couch.

* * *

Aziraphale crooked his fingers and twisted at the same time, then jolted forwards, away from the sharp pleasure, before forcing himself back to grind down.

“Y-yes oh, right there, fuck. Fuck yes, please please please, yes! Yes! Yes! Oh oh oh oh o-oh, ooooooaaahhhhh!” He cried out, grinding down hard as wave after wave of pleasure shot through him. His thighs ended up completely soaked and he was spurting cum as his thumb rubbed insistently against that sensitive spot at the head of his cock.

Finally, he slumped forwards and shakily pulled his fingers away from his vulva. Both hands landed hard in front of himself, slapping the bottom on the tub as his arms heavily dropped them and he panted hard. 

Aziraphale shut his eyes for a moment and pressed his forehead to the cool surface of the tub and moaned. It felt so good against his flushed skin.

* * *

Crowley couldn't believe what he was hearing. The angel was way more into it than he expected. He could pretty much hear the sounds just from sitting on the couch. 

Certainly he would have missed this had he not randomly woke from his nap, but fuck... He didn't know if it was better that he knew about this or not. This was making it very difficult to control himself.

When Crowley heard the water stop, he knew it was his time to lay down and pretended as if nothing had happened. Maybe he could really sleep again for a more believable act. The serpent regulated his breaths and closed his eyes.

But let's face it, there was no way he could sleep with the angel's sounds still ringing in his ears.

* * *

After another moment to catch his breath, Aziraphale stood up on wobbly legs and went to grab some body-wash from the shelves his owner had pointed out to him earlier. It took a bit to find one he liked and then he turned back to rinse the tub out while eyeing the door, wondering how much more time he realistically could have to clean himself.

Biting his lip, Aziraphale figured he probably pushed his luck just now and with a grumble decided to just do a quick scrub off.

When the angel was done cleaning up, he wrapped his towel around himself again and moved to the door to peek out. When he didn’t see the demon, he swallowed nervously and slowly walked back over to the sofa to double check if he was still there.

Upon finding his owner, Aziraphale let out an audible sigh in relief and he plopped down onto the floor, his legs still weak from the orgasm; It was hard to stand for much longer.

Crowley waited for a long time, listening to the sound of heavy breathing until he was certain the breeder had calmed down enough. 

He stroked the angel's fluffy blonde hair and in a sleepy tone, asked,

"Did you enjoy it?"

Aziraphale had started to lean into the stroking in his post-orgasmic bliss. Then he heard the demon speak and he stiffened and flinched away.

_What?! He knew? How did he know when he was asleep the whole time?!_

“I-I’m sorry w-what?!” the Principality stuttered, face flushing.

"The show, angel," Crowley yawned. He pushed himself up and eyed the television. "Oh you figured out the volume, that's good," he chuckled and waved at the TV to make it turn off.

“Oh, um ah...y-yeah.” Aziraphale said awkwardly, blushing and watching the tv turn off curiously. He wiggled slightly, feeling antsy now that there weren't any distractions, and hoped he would just be left alone to his own devices.


	3. Precious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We had to rewrite a good chunk due to some mistakes regarding historical facts. This chapter also ended up longer than the rest. More arts as well because I couldn't help myself.
> 
> Enjoy, folks!

The rest of the day the demon didn't seem to pay much attention to his newly acquired property at all. They shared a few very short exchanges, mostly about the new technology in the living quarters that the angel had never seen before, like the fridge, or something he knew but had been upgraded and was unrecognizable anymore, like the bedside lamps. Otherwise, it was like Crowley had gotten him just to have somebody walking around.

When it was ‘bedtime’, Crowley gave him a pillow and blanket to rest on the sofa, then the demon just simply... went to bed. It baffled Aziraphale, as he didn't know how to feel about this. There just couldn't be a demon who would treat him nicely without any shady purposes behind it, could there?

Aziraphale couldn't sleep. Not that he ever slept much in his life. He had had black outs, when the other demons were rough on him, but actually sleeping? He didn't think doing that could ever help his situation anyway. Besides, letting his consciousness drift away around a demon he hadn’t fully understood yet was a risky move.

Aziraphale didn’t know how long he laid there, but when the door to Crowley's room creaked open, it startled him. The demon had put on a black suit with a pair of sunglasses tucked in his chest pocket. He casually sat on the armrest of the sofa to put his socks on and saw the angel look at him curiously and grinned back. 

"I'll be gone for a few hours. Can I trust you not to blow anything up?" he asked jokingly then added, "There's wine in the cupboard if you are bored."

Aziraphale gave a tiny nod and glanced in the direction of the cupboard before pulling the blanket he had around himself tightly. “Thank you.” He replied quietly, trying to stay civil, he did actually mean it though. As he was quite thankful to be allowed more wine and to be allowed freedom to move around while the demon was gone. 

While he still wasn’t entirely sure that everything wasn’t some sort of test or trick, so far it was actually starting to seem like it wasn’t. This honestly wasn’t a good mindset to start getting when he wasn’t even this demon’s breeder for more than a day... well he thought it was only just a day anyways. It was hard to tell time down here and he was still reeling over how much had passed on Earth. He had known it had to have been a decent amount of time, he had birthed multiple fledglings after all. Though in between the pregnancies was where time got all mixed up as he had no way to tell if he had been idle for months or years chained and blind folded in that white room. Now that he knew more about modern technology from his owner, it was clear more time had passed than he cared to think about.

Crowley smirked, satisfied with the answer. He finished putting his footwear on and stood up. "I don't want to come back to an ambush either, angel. Your lot always tried that shit on the first day and I am sick of it." 

Without looking back to check on the angel's reaction, he went to the door and slipped on the snake-skin leather shoes he had worn since derby became a thing. "If you were smarter than the rest like I perceived you to be, you'd know that escaping is impossible."

Aziraphale blushed both in part at being called smart and because he had been thinking of trying exactly that when the demon was back. 

_Well... there went that idea_ , and it really only would have worked if he could find cording or rope somewhere. Even then it would have been a big gamble to try. So, he just averted his eyes to the floor and snuggled further into the blanket he was given. He would just have to figure out some other way to get out of this literal Hell-hole... well figurative Hell-hole, he wasn’t actually in _a hole_.

* * *

Crowley shut the door tight behind him and made sure the enchantment on it was still working well, before leaving.

He didn't have any business today. Nothing he had to attend in one of those uniforms either. He liked the clothes but wearing them in Hell was torturous - which was actually quite fitting, to be honest. Crowley knew he shouldn't complain though, since it was him who started it, wearing them to Armageddon drills.

And even if there were meetings, he wouldn't care to show anyway. Having just come back from a big gig, he was taking himself some well deserved time off. If Beelzebub needed him for anything, well, sucked to be them. What he intended to do was far more interesting anyway. 

It had been a couple of years since he actually walked London's streets as he was stationed in France back in the late 1930s. And even if he wasn't, Crowley rarely walked on foot anyway. He didn't buy a Bentley for nothing. Unfortunately, before going to France he had left it parked near the building of his flat.

As he strolled, the demon noticed the war had changed this city a lot. 

For one, it had become apparent to him that there was more wreckage than he remembered. He passed a pile of debris, which was supposed to be a shop, he assumed. The Germans must have started their bombing operation.

What was interesting though, was that the civilians didn't seem all that scared. They were cleaning up the debris and many others seemed to be going on with their daily lives. There were a few shop signs saying they were still open. Talk about human's ability to adapt in difficult times (and their willingness to harm one another). 

Crowley’s new assignment, which got him back to these streets, was to change this. Hell wasn’t enjoying the fact that one of Heaven’s tactical countries was not as devastated as they wanted it to be.

Well, If Crowley were to be honest, he'd prefer for Britain to come out strong. It was fun ruining the French's efforts, but London had been his favorite place of residence. It would be a bummer to see further destruction- 

He stopped in front of a building that had been blown in half. _His_ apartment building. 

The apartment where he had kept all his favorite collectibles and _the plants_. 

"... You've got to be shitting me..." 

* * *

Aziraphale stared at the door until he was sure his owner was well and truly gone, then he slowly got off the couch. He snuggled the blanket one last time and then sadly set it down and walked over to the door.

He may not be able to sense what exactly the demon had warded it with, which could have been any number of ways or combinations. All he knew was that yesterday all he would receive was an unpleasant shock when messing with it. But now, now his owner was gone and he could try and figure out just how this worked.

If anything he might even weaken the guarding if he messed with it long enough.

_Though_ , perhaps he would have better luck trying to dig out like he read in some of his more entertaining books. If he recalled correctly, a pair of prisoners dug a tunnel out of their cell and hid the evidence behind a drawing... or some sort of paper object. So that fake window may actually be of some use if he tried that method. Still, he would much rather wait until he truly ran out of options to try that.

“Ok, you can do this Aziraphale.” The angel said to himself as he eyed the front door wearily, hands twitching at his sides. “Your owner is not here, if you scream he won't be able to stop you before you muster through the pain,” he continued to speak aloud, trying to work himself up enough to do something that was probably stupid. 

He really, _really_ hoped it was just the door that had been enchanted... warded? Well regardless of what was done to it, he hoped it was only the door. With a gulp, and memory of the awful shocks, Aziraphale reached forward and held the knob tightly. He could already feel it trying to repel him from opening in and he grunted, trying to force the knob to turn.

“G-guh, tuuurrrrrn... turrrrn, Turn!” He grunted out, tears falling as the shocks started to make his hand go numb. He threw his other hand on top of it, but soon even that hand became numb and his fingers slipped. 

“Aaarrruuughhh!” Aziraphale screamed out, hands flying through the air to stay on either side of his head as he proceeded to scream out in frustration even more. His foot stomping against the floor before he kicked at it as hard as he could. 

This was maddening, absolutely maddening! The only exit and he couldn’t even get it open.

* * *

Crowley decided not to look inside, but with a wave of his hand, the demon put a demonic protection over the building. At least this would prevent it from further damages until the war was done and he could relocate himself to a new place. Then he remembered something more important and looked around.

He was pretty sure he had parked the Bentley somewhere within sight from here. His car was warded from the humans' meddling hands, but he wasn't sure if it was strong enough to protect the vehicle from a bombing. He hadn't anticipated this when he left for his assignment.

The demon grumbled, kicking blocks of debris away. This fucking sucked!

It took him a few blocks walking in frustration before he heard a familiar honking from an alley he had just walked past. He stopped, then stepped backward until he was standing at the alley again. Inside, blocking the entirety of the space between the two buildings, was a black, dusty vehicle.

There it was! 

His most prized possession, safe and sound in an alley. It was sentient enough to hide from the explosions it seemed. Perhaps this day wasn't completely lost on him after all. 

"Clever girl," he smirked, stroking the front hood, then snarled at the cement powder that had gathered on his gloves. Crowley dusted his hands together then moved further inside to pet the vehicle.

“You never disappoint me,” he soothed. The engine hummed happily as he patted the roof. 

He clicked his fingers, miracling the whole thing clean before unlocking the car to check on the insides and was satisfied to see nothing was wrong. He slipped into the driver's seat and cracked a grin.

"It's been a while,” the duke of Hell kissed the steering wheel. “Shall we go for a ride?"

The Bentley trembled and started itself. 

* * *

Aziraphale paced around his current prison _home_ , attempting to find anything else that might help with getting through the door, or even an exit he missed. Sadly, nothing he saw covered either escape route. He bit his thumb in thought once he stopped pacing. It looked like he would have to try tunneling out instead.

He just needed to figure out how to do it, sure he had a spot picked out but would he use his hands? His nails would surely split and break, and that would be a dead give away. No, no, he needed _something else_. 

Aziraphale thought for a few moments, trying to remember what those prisoners had used in the book. It was… was... it was on the tip of his tongue, he just needed to figure out what prisoners had been allowed to have in their cells. The tool used would come to him then, he could only hope that his owner had something similar already on hand.

Clothes… Toilet… Mugs… Food... Spoons...

A spoon! That’s what the humans in his book had used! 

Aziraphale grinned triumphantly as he pulled one out of the drawers in the kitchen. Finally he was getting somewhere! 

He quickly shoved the drawer shut and then went to look for a glass to put the dirt he dug out in. He needed to make sure there wouldn’t be any visible evidence left and a cup would be his best bet... Ok, a bowl would actually be, but how would he explain dirtying a bowl? 

He didn’t want his owner to think he drank wine from bowls, he might get ideas... Ideas from demons were never good.

* * *

It had taken about an hour or so longer than the demon expected his trip to be. He had spent some extra time driving his beloved car, which was now parked safely back in the alley with an extra layer of protection to avoid any misfortune while he was away. 

With several paper bags dangling on his fingers, the demon walked down the steps leading to the underground system, side-eyeing the many groups of humans who now called this place home, as it had become their shelter from the frequent bombings. Crowley adjusted the new fedora he had just purchased while on his shopping spree. It would be best to not make any eye contact. He wouldn't want to draw their attention.

He had sunglasses on to cover his strange eyes, which was pretty much a normal accessory, but he knew the humans would be paranoid enough to think he was down here for shady business. He really wasn't. The demon just hated the whole emerging from (and sinking into) the ground, to the very marrow of his bones. It was annoying to remove the dirt that had managed to slip into his outfit. He'd rather take risks with an actual entrance instead. 

In a well calculated move, Crowley flicked his wrist, and the wall next to him opened quietly, revealing a staircase leading downward. He slipped in quickly before anyone noticed he was even near the wall. 

* * *

Aziraphale wiped his forearm across his forehead as he took a break from digging. Who would have thought it would be this tiring? Honestly, the books made it sound much easier. 

He made sure his spoon comfortably rested within the little hole he had managed to dig and then fixed the fake window so it would look undisturbed. Then he bent down and picked up the cup he had filled with dirt and quickly made his way to the bathroom. So far, every cup of dirt had gone down the drain without issue, so he saw no need to worry this one wouldn’t as well. He dumped the contents of said cup into the bathroom sink and then turned on the water, watching to make sure it all went down and left no trace. 

It was... draining slower than it had been. 

_Um..._ He turned the water on higher. _Ah..._ It still drained quite slow and now the sink was half way full of murky water. He quickly shut the faucet off and bit his lip, was it clogged? Was wherever the pipes connected already filled with wastewater? He swallowed, maybe he should scoop out what was now mud and find somewhere to hide it? He would obviously need to find a new place to hide the dirt if it would clog the sink like this. 

This… wasn’t a good outcome, and Aziraphale started to get nervous. He dashed out of the bathroom and looked at the front door with fear. He didn’t hear anyone outside of it, so he still had some time but how long until his owner was finally home? He swallowed hard and then dashed around wildly, looking for a good place to hide the mud. In his panic, he forgot he could just put it back in the hole and frustrated tears started welling up in his eyes. 

Finally he stopped in his tracks, and resigned, walked back into the bathroom.

Once he got back to the sink he saw it had finally all drained and with a laugh, he dropped to his knees, before moving to sit. Drawing his knees to his chest, he hid his face and began to sob.

* * *

A downside of using Hell's entrances was the endless amount of _stairs_. He understood that there were more than 18 levels of Hell, and that he could just make his corporation walk regardless of how tiring it was. But it felt like he had taken forever walking down this spiral staircase.

By the time he had reached the destined floor of the Gluttony circle, Crowley thought he must have gone through another century nap. The demon quickly got himself back to the living quarters before anyone could have a chance to catch him looking not-so-busy, and since it was his house, he had no need to warn before coming in. The first thing he saw was that the angel wasn't in the living room again. It made him wary. It better not be that ambush bullshit again. 

It turned out not to be the case. The demon took off his shoes and went to drop the bags on the coffee table. 

"Angel, come here," he called.

Aziraphale stiffened and pressed his hands to his mouth to try and stifle the sound of his sobs. He felt cold dread fill him at the sound of his owner calling for him. He tried to slow his breathing so he would stop crying, and it partially worked, but now he was just heaving in breaths and crying on the exhales. He curled in on himself even more, and tried to focus on how his knees felt pressed against his forehead.

“Angel!” Crowley called again.

No reply.

Either the breeder had gone into his bedroom, or... was messing around in the bathroom again.

He waited a while longer and frowned. He didn't hear any lewd sounds so perhaps the angel wasn't getting in on the naughty like yesterday. But what was he doing then? The demon looked into the bedroom first since it was closer. When he saw nothing, he moved to the bathroom.

And there the angel was, sitting on the floor and sobbing.

_And why did the air taste like dirt?_

"What are you doing? Couldn't you hear me?" Crowley asked, not at all understanding why the angel looked like he had been crying.

Aziraphale hicked and pressed his hands hard against his mouth and tried to think of a believable excuse. Only problem was, he had no idea what he could say. He finally managed to stop his sobbing after a few more moments, breaths coming and going at awkward intervals, and slowly he peeked up at his owner with a sniffle. 

“S-sorry,” he stuttered out, hoping he wasn’t in trouble for not responding.

The demon stared coldly. There was some anger brewing in his chest. He was irritated how all the angels just kept on crying when he wasn't even doing anything to them. He hated when they just did that, for no fucking reason. Well, obviously there were _reasons_ , but Crowley wasn’t getting it. He took a deep breath with his eyes closed for a moment and opened them as he breathed out. 

"Get up," he said, jerking his chin to the side. "Come with me."

Aziraphale swallowed hard at the stare and scrambled up when the demon spoke. He sniffled and wiped at his eyes, a few more hics leaving him and hesitantly he took a step towards his owner to show he would follow.

Crowley took the angel back to the living room. That smell of dirt was still irking at the tip of his tongue. At first he thought it was the bathroom but it seemed to have come from the angel himself. Guess it was time for a second bath. But first... 

He grabbed two of the three bags he had gotten home. 

"You have been well-behaved. So you may have this," he held the bags up in front of the angel, the handles hooked on a finger.

Shakily, Aziraphale reached out for the bags and slowly brought them to himself. Why was his owner giving him this? He said it was for good behavior but... 

His owner was staring at him, expecting something. Dumbly he clutched the bags in his hands for a few moments and realized the demon wanted him to look inside. He slowly knelt down and peered into one of them. 

Inside the bag was something soft and white. It should only take a little closer look for the angel to realize it was a white shirt. 

"You can take them out, you know?" Crowley urged, waiting for Aziraphale's reaction to the set of grey trousers and waistcoat he had gotten him. He didn't really care about the size. If he believed it would fit, it would fit.

Slowly Aziraphale moved to pull the clothing out, confused. So his punishment was over then? He was going to get to be clothed?

Upon examination, the clothing style wasn’t really what he was used to, especially the trousers. Though at this point he wouldn’t be too picky, any clothing was more than fine with him… Even if he wasn’t all that fond of grey. 

“I...” he sniffled, still a bit teary from earlier and no less miserable, “Thank y-you, for the c-clothes.” He sniffled a bit again, and held what he pulled out against him as if they were the most precious things in the world, and at the moment they were.

Crowley smiled. Good. It seemed the angel liked this. He probably should do this some more if that would keep him from acting out and annoying him. He sat on the armrest of the sofa with his arms folded to watch Aziraphale continue with the second bag where he had stuffed a belt and suspenders in; along with a beige knee-length A-line dress with white buttons, fashionable for the current time.

"I don't know what human gender you want to present yourself as, so I got you both," Crowley said, causing Aziraphale to blink as he pulled out the dress, feeling a blush rising to his cheeks. It was so… so... scandalous. Ok so, it was better than being in the nude, but there was so much it would leave uncovered, did human women actually wear this style now? Oh dear, that was just... He swallowed hard, maybe he would just set it aside and only wear it if it seemed like his owner thought he was being ungrateful. Though it could be nightwear or something for... he didn’t want to dive too deep into the reasons he’d wear it instead of trousers.

The demon observed every move of his angel carefully. He saw that Aziraphale was into the male labelled clothing more. Though he supposed he could make the angel put on the dress if he ever felt like it. After all, it was already generous of him to get the angel some actual clothing while he could have just snatched them from Hell's Lost and Never Found.

Aziraphale moved to set the dress, if you could even call it that, aside and double checked he didn’t miss anything in the bag. When he peered in again his eyes filled with confusion at the belt and suspenders. Slowly he pulled them out and ran his fingers along the material of both. What exactly were these supposed to be? They were both quite long, the length of them would make it quite easy for such items to wrap around himself. Curious.

“What are these?” he asked.

“Oh, right, they weren’t invented in your time,” Crowley laughed for short. He pointed to the long strip. “This is called a ‘belt’,” then he pointed to the other one, “this one is a ‘suspender’.”

The angel’s mouth went round. Oh, he at least recognized what a belt was. It looked different from the kind of belts he had seen in the past, so he wasn’t so sure. “What is the… suspender for?” he asked.

“To hold the trousers up, angel,” the demon made a noise as if it wasn’t a bright question. “Wouldn’t want to show me your arse cheeks, would you?”

“To hold the trousers up, angel,” the demon made a noise as if it wasn’t a bright question. “Wouldn’t want to show me your arse cheeks, would you?”

Aziraphale’s cheeks went red and he lowered his head.

“I think you’ll like ‘em,” Crowley wanted to urge the angel into wearing the new outfit, but that damn taste of dirt was back again to ruin his mood. He wrinkled his nose. "However, I think it's time you bathe again."

Aziraphale frowned, _another bath? But... but he was clean already, why did he…_

His eyes widened and he clutched the clothes he was still holding closer to himself, scrambling back a bit and eyeing his owner wearily. He should have known getting clothing had a catch, especially actual nice, new clothes. Maybe he should just say he didn’t want any of it... but he had already touched some of them, so would that even work? Probably not. The demon had to acquire the items so he didn’t think his owner would let them go to waste either..

And there it was again. _For the ever unforgiving hatred of Hell..._ Crowley groaned in his thoughts. Did he read it wrong? Did the angel not like the clothes at all? But he was hugging them close, so he must be liking them. He didn't hate baths either, as he had seen the day before. Maybe... 

"Do I have to scrub you down again this time?" the demon raised his brow.

Aziraphale quickly shook his head even as the reminder of being forcibly bathed by his owner had his skin tingling at the memory of the gentle touches he had been given. “N-no, I... I can bathe myself.” He said, quickly moving to stand up. 

It at least sounded as if he would get a choice again, and after seeing how fighting and being out right defiant had gotten him nowhere, he would rather just choose to take the better option right away. He just hoped his owner wouldn’t choose to be in the bathroom as he bathed this time.

"Then what are you waiting for?" Crowley growled. Couldn't the angel understand that he was expecting to see him in the clothes he went on such a trip for? "I'm giving you fifteen minutes."

Aziraphale almost dropped his new clothes as he made an “eep”, and quickly went into the bathroom. 

Crowley rolled his eyes. He turned to put his sunglasses on the table, then removed his jacket, miracling it to the coat hanger. He flicked the TV on for a little pass time. Today the screen showed a cartoon that he had seen a while back. It had a black cat in 'funny' scenarios.

* * *

_Fifteen minutes?!! That wasn’t... he wasn’t..._

The angel gnawed on his bottom lip and set the clothes by the sink as he fidgeted. Maybe if he just pretended to bathe, it would buy him more time? It would anger the demon, but he wouldn’t be bred so soon... hopefully. He really shouldn’t have accepted these clothes.

Aziraphale sighed, eyes on the floor as he pulled bodywash from the shelves. In the end he decided to just do as he was told, he didn’t actually want to be hurt over refusing a bath even if it would buy him time. He’d already gone through being bred enough times so it wasn’t like putting it off would make it any better. Sure he wanted to make everything just as frustrating and terrible for his owner as it was for him, but... something told him he shouldn’t attempt that right now.

Perhaps it was remembering that growl or the fact he had been treated nicely so far; he just didn’t feel up to fighting right now. Maybe this was what it was like to resign yourself to something. It sure felt like it at least. He knew what this felt like, having worked with Heaven, but even then, following his boss’ orders - those he disagreed with - had never felt this melancholy. 

But he just... he was tired, maybe he would try that sleeping thing. 

Maybe... maybe... 

He sighed again, still miserable from his almost failed escape attempt, nothing ever went his way, did it?

* * *

The cartoon was doing a good job distracting Crowley from his own annoyance. He had since moved to sit properly on the seat of the sofa. Well, as properly as he usually was; he looked as if he was close to slipping off anyway. He was chuckling at a scene of the cat hitting rock at some angry human using a flying pan when he heard the bathroom door open.

Aziraphale nervously stepped out of the bathroom, clutching the clothing to his chest. He realized he probably shouldn’t have taken it with him, his owner never said he was allowed to wear anything yet. He was probably still being punished and he didn’t want to make what would happen now, worse. It was always worse after the first day, when he would be brought in and then taken against any nearby surface. So, while his owner hadn’t done anything yet, it didn’t mean that his little outbursts wouldn’t make this worse than if he had just been submissive to him from the start. 

_“Should have never even unbagged you.”_ He muttered at the clothing, eyes downcast as he slowly made his way over to the demon, a towel around his waist.

Crowley honestly was expecting the angel to be fully clothed by now. But when he turned around he saw Aziraphale still naked, with the clothes in his arms. This made him frown again. Was this the angel's way of protesting him? By not wearing the things he bought? 

"What's this? Why aren't you in the clothes already?" he asked, rising from the sofa. "Do you not like them? Do they not fit?" He couldn’t care less if he disliked the clothing; if anything he would be containing his anger.

Aziraphale shrunk in on himself, holding the clothes up as if they might shield him. “N-no... I...” he began, maybe he hadn’t heard when his owner said he was allowed to put the clothes on? “I-I didn’t know I could. I’m sorry for taking them with me, when I wasn’t given permission.” 

His mind was scrambling for any explanation as to why he hadn’t realized he was supposed to wear them. But... Why was he supposed to wear them? Was this a mind game? It felt like some sort of mind game.

Crowley breathed out. Fine. He supposed it was his fault then, for not being clear enough on what he wanted. "Well then," the demon leaned his hip on the couch, one elbow on the top of it. "Now that you know what to do," he said expectantly. "Go on".

Aziraphale slowly lowered the clothing and swallowed. Ok he... he could do that.

Trying to pretend that he wasn’t being watched, Aziraphale focused on undoing the trousers and putting them on. Then he got to work putting the white shirt on and setting the waist coat off to the side, feeling that he would get hot with the added layer. Once he had everything tucked and straightened, he finished zipping and buttoning his trousers. While he was tempted to try the belt and suspenders out of curiosity, he was afraid the demon just wanted him to wear them so he could maneuver him easier. Something that he hadn’t thought about earlier, when first viewing the leather accessories, and now dreaded.

* * *

Every move of Aziraphale was enchanting.

The demon subtly swallowed every time the fabric brushed against that pale, plump body. He didn't want to ruin all his efforts just taking him right now, but he was pretty close to it. Once the angel was fully clothed, Crowley stood up straight to take in a proper full view of him.

"I think this suits you," he stepped closer, caressing the back of his hand on the angel's cheek with a satisfied smirk.

Aziraphale stayed still and shuddered as he felt his cheek be brushed against. He could feel the demon's body heat up close and had to shut his eyes to keep from shooting a glare at the demon as he messed with his shirt. 

The way his owner complimented him made his hair stand on end and skin crawl. Aziraphale wanted to slap that smirk off of his face, but when he got ready to act on that want, his anger fizzled out. He wanted too, but it didn’t really matter if he did, did it? It would just be a moment of gratification, nothing more and it certainly wouldn’t help get him out of here.

Crowley’s hands slipped down to fix Aziraphale's shirt collar to make it look more proper. Next, he grinned, patting the angel’s chest, "almost perfect. You forgot the accessories.”

In the next moment, he summoned the belt and suspenders into his hands. "Since you had never seen them before. I should show you how to put them on then."

The angel frowned when his owner actually summoned the belt and suspenders , then sagged his shoulders unenthusiastically. Great he was going to have to wear those questionable items too?

Crowley held out the two items, dangling them from each hand. The belt was pulled by gravity into a long strip of leather, giving Aziraphale the unpleasant comparison to that of a snake now; the suspenders meanwhile awfully reminded the angel of an animal harness.

"As usual. Take your pick, angel," Crowley grinned.

Aziraphale scowled at the two items. They just looked ominous and he didn’t want anything to do with them. Well, his owner did tell him to pick, so what would be the better option? He gnawed his bottom lip, the single strip of leather was less demeaning in this context, but he might not easily get out of it, what with how tightly it would most likely be cinched to him. Though the strips of leather that made the suspenders form a Y, with metal clips at the ends did seem like it would be the lesser evil, as far as he assumed, seeing as the clips would be the only things attaching the item to himself, so he would honestly rather have it be that then. 

“T-the suspenders... please.” He said, gritting out the word please and hoped the demon wouldn’t choose the opposite.

The demon shrugged at the response. He draped the belt on the sofa for later use. Aziraphale kept his eyes on the leather strip wearily, even after his owner had set it down. Even when the demon had begun to speak he stared at it, as a point for his mind to focus on instead of the fact he was going to be touched. 

"Well, angel. The first thing you want to do is to find the buttons in your trousers," Crowley walked around Aziraphale as he instructed in a deep, slow voice. His fingers slipped into the angel's waistline. Perhaps a little too low. He squeezed on the button with his thumb and index finger, spinning it back and forth. "Right here, and then you will attach the braces to them."

Aziraphale’s eyes slid shut, scrunched together tightly as he felt the demon touch him lower than would have been proper for this demonstration. He wanted those hands off of himself, but couldn’t help how his breathing sped up at the feather light sensation from the button being spun.

“Th-then what?” He asked shakily before licking his bottom lip and swallowing.

Crowley grinned secretly behind the angel as he hooked the back braces into place. He had gotten the Y-shaped suspenders, which was more appealing to his taste. The angel could hate it later, though it wouldn't be Crowley's problem anymore at that point.

"Eager to learn. I like that," he complimented. 

Aziraphale stiffened, that wasn’t the purpose of his question. Why did he have to be so cruel and taunt him like that? But still, the way his owner had said that made Aziraphale shiver.

The demon placed the other ends of the strap on each of Aziraphale's shoulders so he could get to them easier as he moved to the front. Well, he _could_ have, if there wasn't another idea. 

Crowley slipped his hands under the angel's arms. He moved his arms forward so his torso was very close, but not quite touching the angel's back. "You see these ones also have braces on them. So now you will hook them to the buttons on your front waistband," he kept the instructive tone, but this time it had gone into more of a whisper, as he slipped a thumb in between the trousers and the shirt. 

"But it's a little tight, angel. Would you mind opening that front button for me?"

Aziraphale could feel his heart beating wildly. This was it. This was what he was dreading. 

“W-why would I n-need to do that?” He asked quietly, face growing warm and he felt his cock twitch and his vulva throbbed for a moment.

"So I can hook it to your trousers easier?" Crowley quirked his eyebrows, asking in a sarcastic tone. He knew the angel was flustered at this point, and let the question slide. Though if this was how he finally broke the angel, and got him to beg for more private touches, then Crowley would be delighted to give.

But first, choices. He loved choices.

"Can you? Or should I demonstrate how to do that as well?"

Aziraphale could feel his face heating up even more and bit his lip. This was a bad idea, a terrible idea but he had to try, right? “I-I can hook them, you’ve demonstrated quite well so far. I-I think I can manage now.” 

He swallowed again, the idea of his owner demonstrating had his pupils dilating slightly. “Really, I don’t... I would hate to be more of a... a bother,” he reasoned, getting quieter with each word.

_Awww... your loss,_ Crowley thought as he smiled in acceptance.

"Good. And I'd hate to have to demonstrate again," The demon stepped back, slipping his arms away from the angel's front, but not forgetting to run his fingers along Aziraphale's hips as he did so. His eyes glinted, feeling the vibration of a shiver on his breeder’s skin.

He went back to the front to look at those pink cheeks in full. The angel always denied it but obviously he had been expecting to be done filthy this whole time. Unfortunately, if he wanted anything, he'd have to ask.

Aziraphale sighed in relief over the demon backing away. He was happy his owner backed off, but... it was weird that he would when he was touching him already. Though he wasn’t complaining in the least, he just hated that now he was being eyed up as if putting the strange Y shaped harness on was somehow lewd. 

“Don’t worry, I think I understand more than enough now.” Aziraphale muttered, feeling oddly exposed as he attached the ends of the suspenders to his trousers as described. Maybe now he would be left alone again?

* * *

Crowley realized the clothing had made Aziraphale more 'hard to get', which turned the demon on even more. The idea of peeling off the layers one by one, to earn himself the fruit of his labor, was captivating. Bottom line, the angel was very attractive. 

He eyed the bags and the waistcoat that was still on the floor. It didn't look necessary now, though he was sure it would look good on the angel. He turned to grab the belt and handed it to Aziraphale. "Put this and the waistcoat on,” he paused, looking at the leather strip, “do you need me to show you how to use the belt?"

There went the idea he would be able to avoid the awful thing.

“I- I’ll figure it out myself,” Aziraphale frowned, hesitating to take it for a moment, then with a swallow and twitch of his fingers, he finally reached out and grabbed it, studying it for a moment in an attempt to figure out which way was right side up and upside down. Then he eyed at his trousers and saw several loops along the waistline. Something he didn’t see on the trousers of his time.

He assumed that was where the leather should be. Thus, the angel slipped one end of the belt through a hoop, glancing up to see if Crowley had any objection to what he was doing. Despite how much he hated the idea of seeking approval from his owner, Aziraphale wouldn’t know if he was doing it right otherwise.

When he saw no reaction from the demon, he took it as a ‘yes’ and proceeded. In no time he managed to get through all the rings and was staring dumbly at the metallic end and the excessive length of the leather. 

“Get the prong hooked into one of the holes, angel.”

The demon’s voice startled him. He had forgotten he wasn’t alone for a moment. Aziraphale gave an annoyed pout. He did not ask for help, did he? Could his obnoxious owner let him figure anything out of his own? He huffed, but had no choice but to do as he was told. He slipped the leather end through the metal frame and aligned one hole with the metal… stick like object in the middle. Aziraphale tugged and found that it was too loose, so he had to try out more holes before he got the right tightness.

The extra bit of leather was a problem again. The angel frowned. What was he going to- Ohh. Aziraphale realized he had been rather stupid, because as he looked up at the demon again, he saw that his owner was wearing a belt of his ow . The excessive part of the strip was tucked through the hoops so it wouldn’t hang around. Great, that could have saved him so much time… 

Aziraphale finished with the belt, then put the waistcoat on, glaring at the floor as he did.

“I’m done,” he muttered.

* * *

Crowley had been staring at his breeder longingly the whole time, enjoying how he could clearly tell when the angel’s brain was working to figure the new thing out. When the heat got too overwhelming, he decided to look elsewhere.

He needed to be patient.

The demon looked back when he heard Aziraphale announcing he had finished.

"Good job,” his eyes glinted, amused to see the result. “Very good.”

Aaand… The angel didn’t seem all that happy to hear him, which sank his mood right then and there.

“Clean up the bags. You can put the dress in my wardrobe," muttered the demon as he sat back down on the couch to continue watching that black and white cartoon. "When you are done, come back here. I have more for you."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and then went to pick the empty bags up, putting one into the other and then the dress into that one. Slowly, he made his way to the closet and set them inside before heading back like asked. What else did the demon get him?

Crowley felt the angel come back out but he didn't care to look up. Instead, he leaned to take the third bag from the coffee table and held it up. 

"Take it. This should get you back on track," said the demon.

Confused by the wording, Aziraphale just raised a brow as he took the offered bag. _What?_

He moved to sit down onto the floor and slowly looked inside and proceeded to gasp in delight at seeing several books inside. He quickly pulled one out and then another, and another until they all sat beside him. The angel couldn’t help it! He wiggled in his excitement, a look of pure joy on his face as he looked them all over.

Crowley, as always, had been paying attention to how the angel reacted to the things he bought, even if he didn't look like it. He heard the little gasp, which raised his curiosity enough to turn his head. Ah, the angel looked overjoyed. Even more than when he was given clothes. So, books should be high on the to-do list. 

"You like them?" asked the demon, his chin on one hand. "You're lucky I managed to get you books during the Blitz then."

Aziraphale blinked at the word “Blitz”, absolutely no idea what the demon could even be talking about. Though his excitement at getting books had him not even caring in the slightest for clarification. 

“Yes! Yes thank you so much, I...I really do appreciate you getting them for me!” He said happily, pure joy radiating from him at his earnest thanks. Gently, but quickly, he started pulling each one into his lap to look them over, wondering what exactly he had the pleasure of reading finally. 

As each book passed through his hands and then off to the side, just as gently as the first time he had moved them, he realized there was a pattern to what the demon had picked out. Many were history books, well that is to say they were books on the history of certain objects. A few were about automobiles or other types of transportation, then there seemed to be one or two on botany, but the one that had him a bit scandalized was a book that seemed to have been vandalized.

A few pages were pulled out and he had no idea what they could have been about as even the table of contents was gone. It was titled “What a young wife ought to know”; Author: Emma F Angell Drake, Publisher: Philadelphia : Vir, ©1902.

Just the title alone had him blushing madly. _Dear Lord!_ What could the demon have been thinking when acquiring such a book? Well, he knew but why would the demon even pick such a thing out? 

Still blushing darkly, he set that book down a tad harder than he had the others and quickly picked up another. Which was... joy, another book centered around the same subject. The illustration of a baby on the cover had him feeling a bit less enthusiastic about receiving books. He swallowed, a hand moving to rest on his stomach, an old scar acting up with phantom pains. Perhaps he would look over the rest of the books at a late date... 

Slowly he turned back towards the demon, a smile still on his face but not quite reaching his eyes anymore. “Thank you, really... I , er, where did you want me to store them?”

* * *

The demon was having a great time watching how the angel reacted to the maternal books. He might not be into the idea now, but perhaps reading then might change his mind. 

And then his thoughts were interrupted by the question. Crowley hadn't actually thought of that... He didn't read that much. Sure, he had a few old books he got on impulse now in a box under the bed, in case he ever got too bored and wanted to read them again, but that was it. He never needed a place to store books. 

"I could make you a shelf, easy," said the demon, snapping his fingers. A long wooden shelf appeared at an empty spot on the wall. While he could have made his breeder keep the books in a corner or whatever, it would ruin the aesthetic of his home.

Aziraphale flinched at the sound of the snap and then cocked his head to the side as he looked at the newly miracled shelving.

He had expected his owner to give him a box or even hide everything away as a sort of bribe after how happy he had been to receive them. But instead, he gets a shelf where the books would be on full display.

Just why exactly was the demon acting like this?

Finally, in a soft voice he stuttered out a, “T-thank you,” still wary of his owner but now a small tendril of doubt started to worm it’s way into the back of his mind.

Maybe the demon didn’t want him miserable while he owned him?

He still didn’t trust him, but... perhaps at least with this one, he wouldn’t suffer under his care like with the other demons. Though, it was all probably a trick to make him pliant, a mind game like he thought this was earlier.

And for some reason, the thought of this all just being some trick had him feeling even more miserable even as he expected no less from a demon.

"You're welcome," said Crowley. "You'd be a better conversation partner if you actually know what I am talking about."

He rose from the seat and cracked the joints of his neck. " You may have the sofa to read. I'm going to the bathroom." Without waiting for an answer, the demon just sauntered his way to his destination. London had become so dusty that his skin itched. A proper bath would do.

* * *

Aziraphale nodded, starting to gather his books up as he watched his owner walk off and into the bathroom. This was still very strange, the demon actually wanted to have conversations with him. So much so that he got him books?

_What? Just... what?_ Aziraphale was dumbfounded, and feeling a certain sense of wrongness. The demon, his owner, was acting in the most peculiar way and he didn’t like it. He knew he _should_ like it; this was the best he had been treated since getting caught and turned into a breeder. But it was making everything he knew, every fact he had come to understand and known as reality, wrong. _Not true, off, a lie, wrong!_

Everything was _wrong_. Demons didn’t act like this, weren’t supposed too. They don’t treat anyone this good, it had to be an act!

He hated that he was upset over that fact...

Aziraphale knew demons were liars, monsters, manipulators, and everything in between. So this should be expected, but knowing these small acts of kindness were probably lies, had him even more upset. Because, it truly seemed like the demon was kind, well as kind as a demon could ever be at least, and now that he thought about it, the demon had just only acted frustrated when he panicked over things. So...

_No!_ everything was wrong and made to be a manipulation.

Demons didn’t care, and he hated that the moment he would give in to this demon’s games, he would know, without a doubt, just how cruel his owner truly was.

He knew, at some point, he would finally give in, because somehow his owners always managed to break him down. He just feared his new owner’s tactics might work before he was able to finally escape. Then? Then what would happen? Would he still be allowed to move about the demon’s home? Would he still be able to work on escaping or would he be confined to a single room until he was ready to birth any fledglings to come out of the breedings?

He needed to find a way to make his escape plan happen faster, he only had a limited window of attempting this. Who knew when he would have another chance after growing heavy with new life.

* * *

Crowley undid the buttons as he stared into the bathroom mirror. The demon could see the color getting darker on his cheeks. Aside from the irritating itchiness on his skin, Crowley was burning up. That short demonstration he did was taking its toll. The angel's soft and warm body had left a phantom sensation all over him.

He closed his eyes and sighed out. Then turned on the faucet to wash his face with the cold water. But as the demon opened his eyes again, he saw that the water refused to go down the drain. He growled. Those disposable plumbers had _one_ job. 

Under his intense stare, the pipes made some gurgling sounds, and the water slowly drained.

Good. He would hate to rip them out and scream at them to work properly.

Crowley then went to prepare himself a warm bath. The thoughts of the angel's adorable body soon distracted him from the short irritation. The fluffy hair, the squishy belly, those child-bearing hips...

He breathed slowly, stripping himself of the clothing. He really, really needed to let all this steam off him before losing himself to his own temptations. The angel wasn't close to accepting him yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Yleia and Purplekat1989 for Beta'ing this!
> 
> Edit: Thanks to Mirach we found another mistake in our writing. We have edited the fic to fix that. <3


	4. Humor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley thinks he is funny. He's not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I normally have drawings in the fic, and yes this one will. But I have been busy so I am going to add all the doodles later this week. I am too excited to give you guys the chapter.

It had been about a week, Aziraphale believed. It was still impossible for him to really understand how time worked down here, but his owner seemed to have a sort of sleep schedule. So if that was anything to go by, then roughly 7 days had passed.

Nothing worth noting had happened, other than the pair of socks that had been given to him. The demon apparently noticed his feet had gotten all dirty - which was the result of the digging he did whenever the demon wasn't home. He was confused, but since there was no explanation other than the floor being dirty, Aziraphale had gotten away with it.

Eventually they formed a routine pattern where the demon would leave when he assumed it was morning; Aziraphale himself would be working on his escape tunnel (he didn't take any risk with it though, having learned from the clog. He now had a limit of how much dirt he would put into the drain each day); then the demon would come back and Aziraphale would pretend as if he had been reading.

He sighed, the fact that this was a normal recurring part of his time here was actually comforting. It was always good to know what was happening and what would happen every day. He was still on edge anytime they stayed in the same room, but at least the books he was given helped preoccupy his mind and keep boredom away. That had been how... 

_ No, don’t think about that, think about, _ his eyes darted around the page of the book he currently sat reading on the sofa.

“What does horsepower mean?” Aziraphale asked aloud, brows furrowing as he tried to distract himself from the upsetting, wandering thoughts. 

Weren’t automobiles powered by engines or, er... used the contraptions to move? What did a horse have to do with that if the things were called horseless carriages? This was all very confusing to him still, even with a book explaining about said machines.

Crowley looked away from the television screen. It was showing another episode of the cat cartoon. The plot, or lack thereof, had sent the cat to Japan where it decided to give Japanese people chairs, because they always sat on their knees.

"Horsepower?" he repeated the question and drank a sip from the glass of wine in his hand. "It's probably some humans who didn't know what to compare the strength of the engine to, so they measured how strong horses are and used that as a scale. Like," he waved a hand. "How many horses you can replace with this engine."

Aziraphale furrowed his brows a bit more, that did seem quite straightforward. But then... if it only took a few of the beasts to be as powerful as an engine, why replace the creature at all? 

“I...see.” He mumbled and tried to find the spot that he had skipped in an attempt to move his thoughts elsewhere.

“So... then...” he began to ask, squirming a bit, “do they move the way your, er... the same as in those cartoons?” He didn’t think that they possibly could, especially with the descriptions he came across so far but... he had never seen one and was still nowhere near done with reading about them.

So perhaps they did? Maybe the vernacular had changed or was added upon?

Crowley laughed a little at the question. He had to set the glass down or he would have spilled it. "Definitely not, angel," he answered, still chuckling. "These cartoons are exaggerated for comedic effect. The real things are of course more solid." 

He then hummed to himself, stroking under his chin. "I think I can show you how they actually move."

Aziraphale blinked at that, show...him?

A beat, then two.

“Wait?! You don’t mean...” Was the demon going to take him up to Earth?! Was this his chance?

Aziraphale set his book down, eyes wide as he stared at his owner, heart beating fast.

"Oh, don't look so surprised, angel," Crowley adjusted his pose, supporting himself with an elbow on the armrest. "It’s easily done. We don't even have to leave the room for that." It was a specific answer that made Aziraphale wonder if he caught on to what he was thinking.

The serpent pointed at the black-and-white television. "Everything you see there is drawn from my memory. So if you want cars, or trains, or whatever, I can."

Aziraphale pouted for a moment and then turned his head to look curiously at the television. Then he looked back at his owner, and at the television again. His brows drew together in thought, before situating himself to look at the strange technology easier.

“It’s all from your memory?” He questioned, but didn’t the demon say the images were transmitted from the humans?

"Pretty much," Crowley shrugged. "Normally it would receive signals from the humans, but there's a war going on up there so they stopped. I have to entertain myself  _ somehow _ ..."

Certainly there was more than one way to do that. But Crowley was straying from the much more appealing idea.

Aziraphale still didn’t quite fully understand what the demon meant, but he nodded anyway. The thought of a war happening had him feeling sad though. So many people were dying and coming into harm's way. Many of whom he might have been able to help or save, and yet he was stuck down here.

It was a miserable reality that slapped him in the face at that moment. 

“Er... how else do you... entertain yourself?”  _ Bad question, bad question! _ Aziraphale had to force himself not to slap a hand over his mouth, he couldn’t help asking that though, he was curious. Unfortunately, he realized that sounded rather vague, in the wrong sort of way, just as the words left his mouth.

Crowley blinked. Probably the first time in days. 

That was a broad question. Crowley didn't know where to begin. Was the angel asking about his hobbies or... was he curious about something else? Because Crowley could list out for a whole day what he had been thinking of doing to  _ entertain  _ the both of them.

"What do you think I do when I leave you to your own devices?" The demon gave a menacing look toward the angel, smirking.

Aziraphale swallowed when that look was leveled on him, he really didn’t like it and figured he was going to like what was going to be said even less.

Crowley watched Aziraphale blush and struggle with finding an answer, delightfully taking in the sight of a flustered angel. Then, he finally spoke.

"Have you angels ever possessed a human? That shit's great. One eighty degree headspin? swallowing nails? spitting slurs? Running down stairs on all fours, backwards? Even better: the look on the other humans' faces. Definitely a favorite pastime."

With every word, Aziraphale’s eyes grew wider and he shrunk back from the demon until he was pressed as hard as he could be into the corner of the couch.

None of that sounded even remotely fun, and the head spinning! How could that even be possible? 

“I... I never... angels don’t...” He started to say in response to the first question, breathing picking up. He was right, no one genuinely kind would ever partake in, and openly enjoy, such things. Any kindness he was shown was a trick.

Crowley was enjoying this far more than he should. Those frightened eyes and the way the angel recoiled against the couch was adorable.

"Chaos. Pure chaos, angel," he gestured his hand indifferently. "Though sometimes you won't need to do anything. Just stay in the depth of their mind and be that tiny little voice in their head." He leaned closer, voice becoming a hissy whisper to demonstrate how it would have sounded like.

"You don't have money for that? Jusssst  _ take it _ . If you hate them that much, why don't you get rid of them? You have a gun, don't you? It doessn't matter she said no.  _ Do it _ .. "

It was that last sentence his owner whispered that had the tears welling up in Aziraphale’s eyes. This was awful, simply awful. How could anyone enjoy this, actively doing such things?

Everything the demon was saying was simply horrid and he didn’t want to hear any more. But he didn’t know how he could get the demon to be quiet. More tears filled his eyes at that, it was all just so frustrating.

Crowley stopped. He stared at the angel, watching the stream of tears falling down his face. He hated that. He didn't want to deal with that again. It had been a while and he thought he finally got that crying thing sorted.

The corner of his mouth twitched in annoyance. He leaned back. "Gosh... I am not serious, angel, I don't do that crap," the demon rolled his eyes. "The last time I possessed anyone I tempted the idiot to eat a whole feast of caviar. Alright, heard he died, but it was entirely his fault for agreeing to it." The angel didn't stop crying... Fuck... He had thought this one was funny. Why couldn't his breeders ever take a joke?

"Angel..." he breathed out, getting annoyed the longer this continued on. "What kind of demon do you think I am? All of this was a joke."  _ Well, except for the caviar one… _

Aziraphale wiped his eyes and sniffed a few times, slowly moving to sit straight again.

“M’sorry, dunno,” he said, shrugging his shoulders heavily and trying not to look directly at his owner. He was pretty sure parts of it weren’t a joke, if the demon was even being truthful about joking. “Didn’t li...,” he muttered quietly, the rest of what he was saying was too quiet to hear, and pulled his knees up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around them and let his head rest on top.

Crowley frowned. He brought a finger to his lips, rubbing there as he tried to gather his thoughts and reasoning. He supposed the angel was still under the impression that he was like the other ones, like Hastur, who enjoyed exploding shit and sicking maggots on humans. Quite the opposite really. He wouldn't let himself near any of those nasty things.

While he technically could do all the things he had mentioned, they were never his style. He preferred giving the humans choices and sitting back to watch the whole thing unfold.

Anyway, this was a situation he didn't expect. Crowley thought he had better figure it out to avoid making things hard for himself again. The thing was, he couldn't just figure out where he had gone wrong with the joke. It all honestly sounded hilarious to him as a satire on demon stereotypes.

"I don't get it. What part of it was so upsetting to you?" he asked.

Aziraphale frowned, and let out a sigh as he side eyed his owner. How could he not understand what upset him? Were demons really that horribly disconnected and cruel? 

“Do you really not know?” He asked quietly, fingers digging into the trousers he had on.

Crowley thought he should at least attempt to make a guess.

"Was it... the caviar? I know you angels aren't into food, gross matter n' all that..."

_ Well, most angels, at least. _ Aziraphale thought and frowned even more. How could someone who used to be an angel just not understand? Surely he was pretending to be ignorant.

That course of reasoning made Aziraphale grit his teeth, why where demons just so... so...

“No! it wasn’t the Caviar!” Aziraphale snapped and turned to glare at him.

“It was how you can just be.. be...” his nostrils flared and then he exhaled, turning away from looking at his owner as more frustrated tears started to run down his face. “How you can just be so cruel without even caring that you are.” He finished quietly, resting his chin on his knees again.

"Cruel?" the demon winced in confusion. He actually looked rather offended by it. And he was. All this time he had been treating this angel with more respect than he could ever dream of if he was out there. He hadn't even made him copulate yet. As a matter of fact, they had been just sitting around and he made a joke. What part of all this was cruel?

"None of that was directed at you, angel. I was talking about the humans. For your information, I haven't done any of that yet, save for the caviar. So those jokes aren't real if I have never, and am not going to do any of them, are they?" he gestured his hands in frustration. "It's like a cartoon, angel, they cut one another up but in the end no one is really hurt."

Aziraphale hated that in a way it was true and that that reasoning did, in fact, make sense. But even so, the way the demon spoke of it with such glee, the tone of his voice, the terrifying menace behind it all. It shook him to his core, and he still wasn’t sure that the demon hadn’t ever done any of that.

Especially that last example he had joked about, there was no way that one was a joke.

“I suppose you have a point,” he mumbled aloud and slowly looked back up at the demon.

“I just...” he huffed and turned away, “why even joke about it then? Why do you even think all of that is funny?” He glared at the floor, voice sounding agitated. “Maybe you never did any of that, but that doesn’t mean others haven’t, that I wasn’t subjected to any of it...” he trailed off, biting his tongue roughly to stop what was about to turn into a rambling chastisement, and tasting a bit of blood from where he clipped the side of his tongue. 

He'd probably just said too much, but it wasn’t like the demon didn’t already know about it, he said he read his file.

Crowley still wasn't quite getting the picture. If some other people had done it, then it was definitely not his fault. And so what if it happened? These weren't  _ his  _ problems. He ran a hand over his face in frustration.

"It's funny because you asked how I entertain myself and you angels always have this stereotype about demons-ngk- you know what, fuck it. It's not even funny anymore when I have to explain it!" The demon huffed, looking back at the television and licked his lips. The tip of his tongue caught the scent of iron, and his whole body went stiff. Why was there blood?

The demon looked over at Aziraphale. He frowned. Then crawled over the sofa toward his breeder. When Crowley's face was just inches away from the angel, he flicked the tip of his tongue.

"Are you bleeding?" He asked.

Aziraphale leaned to the side slightly, eyeing his owner as he got closer, with barely held back disdain. He swallowed what had started to swell up in his mouth and scowled.

“No... I’m not.” He said slowly, unhappy that the demon had all of a sudden gotten so close. 

First he was annoyed with him and now he was acting... concerned? Ugh... He was just so, so absolutely infuriating. Every time they had to interact, it left him either with a whiplash of emotions or absolutely tired and frustrated. 

The angel preferred his owner be angry with him at all times over… whatever this was.

Crowley's eyes seemed to have lost what little shine they had left. He  _ knew  _ the angel was lying to him. There was no mistake; the taste of blood on his tongue came from behind those plump lips.

"Open up," he commanded. One hand gripping the back of the sofa, the other on the armrest, he pulled himself up higher than the angel, to stare down at him whilst trapping Aziraphale between his body and the corner of the couch.

And when there wasn't an immediate response, he grabbed Aziraphale's jaw, squeezing the angel's cheeks with his fingers to force the lips to part. His serpentine tongue flicked.

"I knew it," growled the demon, who then smirked. "Aren't angels not supposed to lie?"

Aziraphale glared but stayed still where he was sitting. Sure angels weren’t supposed to lie but that didn’t mean there weren’t loopholes. Loopholes he had quickly learned to use while on Earth and especially down in Hell. Like now, technically he wasn’t bleeding, it was his tongue. Was it a part of him? Yes. But if thought of in terms of something he owned? Technically no.

And why exactly did his owner even care? It was just a bit of blood, bodies healed on their own.

Crowley liked that look. This was the thing he looked for when he chose this angel for himself. He didn't want the skeptical, wary eyes he gave him all the time, but this? This was  _ hot _ .

"I don't like my property damaging itself, angel," he growled. "Especially not one as valuable as a breeder. If I wanted to draw blood from you I would have done so mysssself."

Aziraphale just averted his eyes and continued to glare at the wall, wondering how much trouble he would get into if he tried to shove his owner away. Besides, that was all he could really do with how he was forced to keep his mouth open right now.

"I'm going to heal it for you this time, but should I find you hurting yourself again, I'll not be taking it lightly," the demon continued as he stared at Aziraphale's lips hungrily. He so wanted to lock their mouths together and lick the angel's wound clean, but in the end, he managed to hold back, and inserted his thumb instead. He felt Aziraphale's jaws attempting to close and hissed.

"Don't try anything funny, angel. I am helping." 

Despite already seeing the wound earlier, the demon allowed his finger to search around, stroking the angel's tongue to find the one spot that was clipped. Once found, he caressed it, healing the damage.

Aziraphale made an outraged noise at first and tried to flinch back, still attempting to shut his mouth despite the warning of his owner. Unfortunately his grip was just as strong as before and all he could do was just sit there and feel the demon’s stroking. 

As the wound began to heal, Aziraphale moaned, eyes drooping slightly as endorphins rushed through him. His tongue started to try and press up against the thumb and he moaned softly, mouth softening.

Crowley hadn't expected such a reaction. It was even less of a possibility for him than the angel throwing a crying fit. The moaning sent waves of arousal throughout the demon's body, making him all warmed up. He ended up doing it for longer than he should have, stroking the angel's tongue, and moved his free hand to stroke up Aziraphale's thigh, testing his boundaries.

Aziraphale moaned a bit more, attempting to suckle at the thumb, eyes shutting completely. But as he felt the hand on his thigh and the healing began to end, his eyes snapped open and a look of horror came over his face.

_ Oh no, nonnonononono this wasn’t happening, _ his face grew red in embarrassment and he froze. How could he have forgotten how good healing felt? Even healing from demons had always felt nice to him.

Aziraphale had to force himself to stop moving his tongue and squirmed, moaning a bit more as the thumb continued to stroke the soft muscle. In an effort to get the fact he didn’t need anymore healing across, he moved one of his hands to grip at the demon’s wrist and attempted to pull it away. 

He really wasn’t looking forward to the demon now having knowledge of his oral fixation. Well, that is if he didn’t somehow know before, it was hard to know what exactly was and wasn’t in the file that Hell made for him. He had a suspicion some of the things he actually got off on weren’t in there, probably as some sort of sick entertainment for the cruel beings to have.

When the demon saw his advances weren't well received, he sighed inwardly and backed off. He sat back on his heels and pulled his finger out. An amused twitch at the corner of his lips when the angel's mouth seemed to follow his finger for a second. 

He made no comment about what he had just witnessed, however. Instead, turning to get a tissue from the box he always had on his coffee table, the demon wiped his hand clean. After all, he had his own erections that were threatening to make themselves known. Wearing rather skin tight trousers wasn't a good idea when one had a double problem between their legs... 

Aziraphale pressed his lips together tightly and pulled his legs to his chest again. What? 

....

He just... listened to him instead of trying to go further? What? 

He was relieved, but embarrassingly the thumb in his mouth had caused a throbbing deep inside of him and he could feel his blush darkening. As much as he was glad the demon had backed off, he was slightly insulted to see him wipe his thumb clean after retreating so easily.

"Apparently that joke earlier wasn't so tasteful, if you had to hurt yourself over it," Crowley poured new wine into Aziraphale's glass which the angel had emptied long before their conversation even started. "Drink up. I assume you'd want to wash the devil off your tongue."

The demon held the glass up with a civil smile.

When he was offered the wine Aziraphale sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. His gaze at Crowley was more upset than angry now. Then, slowly, he leaned towards him and gently took the glass.

“You really didn’t know then?” He muttered to himself and then sighed. “I’m... sorry you had to heal me. I didn’t mean to hurt myself.” He sighed again and turned away to look at the tv and took a drink, ignoring that last comment his owner made.

Crowley waved dismissively. "Don't make a big deal out of it. Just don't do that again." The demon leaned back on the sofa and they silently watched the animated cat drinking beer and dancing. 

* * *

Whatever went on in Crowley’s head; it made him look back at Aziraphale eventually.

"Do you still want to see those horseless carriagess?" he asked.

Aziraphale stayed silent for a moment as he took a sip of the wine he was given. Did he? He wasn’t completely sure he wanted to anymore after what had just happened.specially because anything he saw would have to come from the demon’s memories. Did he really want to chance seeing something horrid just because he was curious?

“Ummm,” he drew out the word once he swallowed and glanced at the demon from his peripheral. Well, at least anything he saw wasn’t happening in real time, and he was curious. “Yes... please.” He finally said and hugged his knees closer.

Turned out whatever Crowley had in mind wasn't at all horrific. The demon did a suave gesture of snapping and the image on the television flipped to that of the streets of London. A very mundane scene of humans walking about and... cars of all shapes and sizes.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he nearly dropped his glass in surprise. That was how big the automobiles were?! 

Sure, he should have realized that; as carriages could be quite large, but there were just so many and of different varieties as well. There were so many people too and... Oh good Lord, the fashion! 

“Oh my...” he breathed.

"Quite a lot has changed, hasn't it?" the demon chuckled. He watched Aziraphale's reaction with a fascination of his own. The angel had visibly relaxed from the dispute earlier to focus on this.

The scene on the television was from Crowley's point of view, of course, and so it followed his steps through the city. He had chosen a peaceful time for this, knowing there was not as much traffic now during the war.

From a street corner, a large double decked bus crept into view. It was so tall it made the cars look like little toys next to it and Aziraphale inhaled sharply. It was much larger than anything he had seen and he couldn’t fathom why anyone would need something like that. What could possibly warrant something that large, shipments? 

Still, what would one need to ship if something like that had to be involved? Also, how did something like that not fall over?

As Aziraphale mused to himself, brows drawn together in puzzlement, he noticed the humans in the windows and his eyes grew wide.

“There are humans in there!” He gasped.

"Um, yes," Crowley looked back at the screen. He had been staring at the angel's adorable astonished expression this whole time. 

"It's called a bus. Well, normally buses aren't that big, but in London the double decked buses are common," he explained. "It's public transportation, angel. They take humans around the city so they don't have to use their cars all the time. Pretty clever."

“B-but so many at the same time?” Aziraphale turned to look at his owner, wide eyed. Why would so many humans need transportation at the same time if they all had their own vehicles...? Wasn’t that the whole reason for removing the horse, so it was easier to get around? If that was the case then why? 

Oh, he was just getting so confused over this.

"Because cars run on gasoline, which costs money. The humans prefer paying a smaller amount, so the buses take them to the area they want. It's slower but they also get to their destination," he shrugged. "But also, you need to have a license to drive a car, and it's a nuisance to get one. There are driving examinations, and traffic law, yadda yadda. I never bothered with those myself."

“Oh,” Was all Aziraphale replied with as he took in this information. Now he really didn’t understand why anyone would want to use such a mode of transportation. “That all just sounds... complicated.” He voiced his thoughts aloud and frowned as he turned back to the television. Everything just seemed complicated, and from what he was seeing, very different from what he remembered. Well... it would make sense, humanity always was changing and inventing new things every day. 

“You also have a vehicle, correct? What does it look like?” He asked curiously, though he didn’t turn to look at his owner as he spoke.

Crowley's spirit visibly lit up. "Why yes. I do." He leaned forward to take his wine and drank some of it before continuing. 

He waved his hand and the screen went blank for a moment then the image of a black car showed. Unlike the earlier images where they only saw the cars from a far point of view, this time they got several close-ups on details of the car. The images were vivid and there wasn't a single grain.

"It's called a Bentley. She's only had one owner from new, and that has been me. 10 years and not a single scratch. Fastest thing in all of England I guarantee you," said the demon, not even hiding how proud he was of it. If it wasn't a material object, one would have thought they were in love.

Aziraphale noticed how his question made the demon perk up and he blinked. He had no idea a vehicle would mean so much to him.

“Oh, uh well... congratulations?” He wasn’t sure how to reply to the boasting. Was that a good thing that the er, Bentley never had an owner nor a scratch before? And fastest?

Crowley rambled on about how perfectly formed the car was, until he realized the angel wasn't as enthusiastic about it as he was. Aziraphale looked confused when he talked about how the gear lever worked even.

Well, what a buzz kill.

"Anyway, that's my car for you," he shrugged, "You asked how I entertain myself? It's car rides. Just driving for hours at top speed. Quite fun if you ask me."

Aziraphale sighed, “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I'm just a bit confused over everything still. Well maybe not confused but, shocked over it.” Why was he apologizing? He wanted the demon to be frustrated with living with him. “But top speed? How fast is that twenty, thirty miles an hour?” He couldn’t imagine an automobile going faster than that, even a horse drawn carriage would be pushing it at that speed.

"As fast as I expect it to be," replied the demon vaguely. He placed his cheek on a fist as the screen changed to the view inside the Bentley as he drove. Everything on the sides became almost a blur.

Aziraphale nodded at the answer, it did make sense that the demon could do that as it was an inanimate object. 

“I’ve never... um,” Lord that looked horrifyingly speedy. That couldn’t be safe could it? How did the demon stand that amount of speed? “I’ve never ridden in anything faster than a horse, I'm afraid.” He swallowed, maybe he could talk his owner into taking him for a ride? He doubted it would work, seeing as his first attempt at doing that ended up with viewing memories on the television, but he had to at least try.

"She is definitely faster than a horse," Crowley mused. In the heat of the moment, he felt the need to show the angel his pride and joy. The Bentley sure would look much better outside of the screen.

"It's much more exciting for sure. I could even take you for a ride, angel."

Aziraphale inhaled sharply, was this really his chance?

“Really?” He asked, wide eyed. He needed to word this perfectly, he couldn’t say the wrong thing.

“I admit, it does seem like it would be fun, but... there’s no chance I’ll be thrown from it will there? There was a carriage that happened in and well...” that wasn’t a lie actually, it’s part of the reason he preferred to just walk everywhere unless absolutely necessary. “Though, it would be nice to ride in something again, haven’t in ages.” He sighed wistfully.

Crowley realized his mistake. He had gotten too enthusiastic about his car and forgotten that Aziraphale wasn't a roommate, or a... friend? Not that he knew what it was like to have a friend. Da Vinci didn’t live long enough for him to actually consider a friendship. He was there for his entertainment, for a couple of decades. 

Right now, Aziraphale was his owned property, just as the Bentley was. And there were strict rules regarding possession of such.

For one, he wasn't allowed to bring him back to Earth. Should Heaven find out what had become of their Earth stationed angels, the war would happen sooner than anticipated. Hell was far from ready for it. But at the same time, he did want to show the angel how fast the car was; and show him the things he had missed all this time, just so he could have better conversations. He couldn't just explain everything all the damn time.

"I might consider it," his smile faded as he muttered. "Anyway, anything else from that book that you want to see?"

Aziraphale deflated just a bit, of course it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“Um... er,” he tried to think of anything else he saw mentioned. There wasn’t really anything in the book he was reading now, but the book he read last night had some things he was interested in seeing. “There was a... er... bicycles?” He saw a few illusions, but once the books only began to mention two wheels, he had a hard time grasping how anyone could stay upright on one of them.

"Ah, piece of cake," said Crowley, working the miracle with his hands again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my Betas: Yleia and Loops

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Pulling Out Evil By The Roots](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24106210) by [Bisexual_Crowley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bisexual_Crowley/pseuds/Bisexual_Crowley)




End file.
